


Hunters' Children

by yunmin



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Families of Choice, M/M, Multi, Partial Fix-It, Polyamory, Season/Series 09, Team Free Will 2.0
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-23
Updated: 2015-02-13
Packaged: 2018-03-08 18:46:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 32,648
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3219509
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yunmin/pseuds/yunmin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Claire Novak enters her eleventh grade homeroom believing that everyone in her new high school is perfectly ordinary. She's wrong. There's a boy who has had his life wrecked by the forces of Heaven and Hell just as much as she has, only he doesn't even know it. And Claire's going to get to the bottom of it, understand just what happened to Ben Braeden if it's the last thing she does.</p><p>Then the angels fall. And that's only the beginning. Hunting. Angels. The Antichrist. Spirits not able to move on. And, finally, a dangerous plan with one goal: unlocking the gates of heaven.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Claire

**Author's Note:**

> Phew. I've been writing this for the last nine (? I think) months, it's a relief to get it out in the world. This takes into account everything until the end of season 09, and ignores any new information that we might have gleamed from season 10. (Like Claire's entire existence there. SPN writers, you're slow on the uptake.) With thanks to [maryfic](http://archiveofourown.org/users/maryfic/pseuds/maryfic), who reassured me this thing actually makes sense. 
> 
> Warnings: violence, language, blasphemy, talk of possession. All canon-level stuff, but present. Character tags/pairings/tags in general will be updated as chapters are posted; there's three parts to this fic, then a epilogue. Updates should be weekly. If you want to know more, badger me at my [tumblr.](http://drinkupthesunrise.tumblr.com)
> 
> There is a playlist for this chapter and it can be found [here](http://8tracks.com/drinkupthesunrise/break-you-down)

Claire Novak enters her eleventh grade homeroom believing that everyone in her new high school is perfectly ordinary. This is her fourth high school in twelve months, and it'll be a miracle if she's still here at the end of the term. She stumbles through the introduction the teacher insists on, muttering her name and where she's from. It's not Pontiac, it's never Pontiac these days, ever since they started running. She picks a new hometown every time she ends up in a new place. And then she's shepherded off to sit in her assigned seat while the teacher blabbers about the first pep rally of term.

It holds no interest to Claire and she is therefore grateful when the bell rings. She's got the slip of paper with her locker number on, and heads to it to try and dump some of the books she got handed at her intro this morning. It doesn't take long for her to work out that, being the new kid, the administrative staff have assigned her a locker with the freshmen. At least, that's what Claire assumes by the bustling crowd of people who haven't quite grown into growth spurts, most of whom are having problems understanding how their lockers open.

Claire identifies her locker quickly. The only problem is that there's a dark haired boy standing in front of it, wearing a threadbare band t-shirt which has to be older than he is. "Excuse me," Claire says, full of fake nicety. The boy affords her little more than a glance before moving out the way. As Claire takes books out of her bag and slots them into her locker, she's aware that the boy is still standing besides her.

Glancing over, she notices his is the locker next to hers. Great. She double checks her schedule to check she's kept the correct books in her bag.

"Hey, can I borrow a pencil?" the boy asks.

Claire bites back a question about how he's turned up to his first day of High School without a writing implement and shrugs. "Yeah, sure," she says as she reaches into her bag for one.

The boy's fingers touch hers as she hands him the pencil, and Claire feels a spark that makes her wince. "Sorry," the boy says, but Claire's not listening.

She just gawks at this ordinary boy with enochian carved into his soul. And the worst thing is, Claire knows who did it. She'd recognise that handwriting anywhere. It's the angel who tore apart her family's life when she was eleven.

.

It takes Claire a couple of days to gather that the boy's name is Ben Braeden and he and his mother moved here from Battle Creek, Michigan a month and a half ago. No one seems quite sure why. The current gossip reckons his mom got a better job offer down here, but Claire knows that there are better reasons for moving. No one in this town has any imagination.

The Braedens keep to themselves as far as she can tell. Ben appears to be the type of kid who should be popular. He's good looking, easy-going and friendly and yet the school's population avoids him like the plague.

Claire knows what that's like. She and Amelia had stayed in Pontiac briefly following Castiel's departure, before they'd moved down to Bloomington to get a fresh start. They'd done three years there, in peace and quiet. Castiel had kept his word that they wouldn't be harmed. Amelia settled, and Claire had almost begun to make friends.

But then they'd seen the news. A woman describing a man coming amongst her church congregation as a new god, and Claire just knew that it was Castiel. The stain glassed window they showed confirmed it, Amelia going white in shock at seeing her husband's image plastered on the news. They'd talked about moving that evening. Wondered if they were safe. Claire almost looked for the Winchester's numbers they'd been left before realising it wouldn't do them any good. She'd kept track of them, and last she heard, Sam was locked in Lucifer's cage and Dean had driven off in the Impala never to be heard from again.

It's the CCTV footage of the slaughter at the campaign headquarters that persuades them to go. Amelia sat in quiet horror on the sofa before Claire took over. They'd packed up as much as they could fit in the car, Claire weeding out the non-essentials, and drove.

Claire knew it wasn't really Castiel in the footage. And it wasn't Jimmy either. Something else was wearing her father's skin, and she has no idea what it could be, despite the repository of knowledge Cas left in her head. Her mother doesn't stop until she gets to the river at Burlington, when she finally asks where they're going.

They get out a map as they stop for gas, and Claire picks a city. Hastings, Nebraska. Their life there is perfectly nice, but within three months Claire gets antsy and they move again. Amelia picks the next time. And then, three months on, Claire picks again. And now, they're in Hamilton, Ohio, and Claire hates this place with a burning passion.

Except that here she has met Ben Braeden. And until she can solve the mystery, she's not moving on.

.

There aren't many excuses for Claire to interact with Ben, considering he's a freshman to her junior. Claire deems it an alignment of the fates when her literature teacher asks her to tutor one of her freshmen and it turns out to be Ben.

Which is how she meets Lisa and puts it all together.

She's read the Supernatural books. They're trashy, and the prose is nigh unbearable but they're the only source of information she has. Googling Castiel hadn't brought up much aside from the books and the fansites, which, are frankly, rather disturbing.

Lisa is one of Dean's old flings. And Ben is the probable but unconfirmed son. Even so, their encounter with both the Winchesters was before Castiel was in the picture, so Claire can't work out why they both bear enochian marks. She gets a nearly identical reading off Lisa, but the writing is clearer, stronger. It's enough to let her know that it's a memory spell of some kind.

It only takes a couple of tutor sessions for Claire to get close to Ben. He thinks she's cute, and Lisa believes her to be a good influence. Introducing Amelia to them goes well too, the women finding kindred spirits in each other.

Claire doesn't tell her mother they have more in common than they seem.

She realises the absolution of what Castiel has done one afternoon, when they are talking about birthdays. Ben mentions off hand that he can't remember a single moment of his eight birthday party, or the following week, despite either side of it being clear.

"Nothing?" Claire asks.

"Absolutely nothing," Ben replies casually. "I mean, it's a bit odd. Mom can't either, and we can't find any of the pictures. Which is more weird, cause mom photographed everything back then."

"And you've never thought anything of it?"

"Why would we? Not much we can do about it."

Claire knows the books didn't mention anything about Lisa and Ben having their memories wiped. The Winchesters didn't even know anyone back then who had that sort of power. And it seems a bizarre thing to do, to go back and wipe a week of memories from a mother and her son, even if they are the family of Dean Winchester.

"Have you got any other gaps?" Claire asks on a whim.

"The year I was twelve is a bit fuzzy," Ben admits. "That was when we moved to Battle Creek. I asked mom about it once, before we came here, and she has no idea why we moved. I mean, until then, we'd lived in Cicero our whole lives."

Claire does the math. The year Ben was twelve was the year after Sam and Dean stopped the apocalypse.

Maybe Dean hadn't just driven the Impala off into the sunset after all.

.

It becomes clear that Claire's not going to work out why Castiel decided to wipe Lisa and Ben's memories from talking to them. They don't have the answers she needs.

She knows something is going on; that something's gone seriously bonkers in the last couple of years. Castiel making national news was only the start of it. Sam and Dean have made a reappearance on the FBI most wanted list, for crimes Claire is sure they didn't commit. And then there's the whole affair at Richard Roman Enterprises, which is entirely too fishy for Claire's liking.

She contacts the woman who uploaded the unpublished Supernatural books, hoping for some information. Claire suspects she's Becky Rosen, and addresses her email such. She gets one back, confirming that she's seen both Sam and Dean alive and well in the last six months, but hasn't seen Castiel.

It's not tremendously helpful, but she thanks Becky all the same. There are still mysteries to be solved, and how Sam got out of the cage is something that nags at the back of Claire's mind.

But Sam and Dean have vanished off the map, and if they are still around, they don't want to be found.

.

The anniversary of the worst day of Amelia and Claire's lives comes round, and they find themselves at the Braedens'. They don't have to even say anything before Lisa reaches for the bottle of whisky she stashes under the sink. Last time Claire looked, they were both on their way to being truly sloshed, commiserating over vanishing boyfriends and father figures.

In the cool night air, Claire sits herself out on the back porch and gazes up at the night sky. There is a constancy to it that reassures her, even in the wake of everything else.

Because Ben is more intuitive than anyone gives him credit for, he appears on the decking with ice cream. Claire takes the offered spoon and bowl gladly, and Ben sits down beside her. "I hear it cures all ills," he says.

"I'm not so sure about that, but it helps," Claire says. She takes a spoonful; the cold melts on her tongue, the sweetness of the vanilla filling her mouth. "Seriously, thanks Ben." She bumps her shoulder into his, and he shuffles towards her so they're sharing body heat.

"What's it like?" Ben blurts. It takes a moment for him to clarify. "I mean, having a dad."

Claire doesn't know how to answer that. Her father walked out six years ago and her life has changed as to be unrecognisable since. Jimmy was a good father, she knows that objectively, but it's difficult to think good things about him when he walked out on them. But she's had Castiel inside her head too, and understands that lure, and it's hard to blame Jimmy. "You're not missing much," she settles on.

Ben nods. "Can't miss what I've never had, hey?"

Claire suspects that he might have had it once, but given that he can't remember it, it's irrelevant.

"Guess not."

Ben's finished his bowl of ice cream, and Claire's being slow, so he attempts to steal some of hers. Claire moves her bowl away sharply. "Oh, come on, please?"

"No." Claire's tone is firm. She runs her spoon round the edge of the bowl, then sucks on the spoon to get every drop of the melted cream. Looking up to the night sky, she comments, "Cygnus is bright tonight."

"Which one's that?" Ben asks.

Claire points it out. "There's Lacerta above it, and then Cepheus, and then Draco to the right," and Ben just follows her finger, smiling.

He thinks it's cool she knows all these things. Claire tries not to think about it too hard, all the forgotten languages, facts and figures and ancient history she has rotting in the back of her head. And she certainly doesn't say that, if she thinks very hard in the moments between sleep and dawning, she can remember what it's like to dance among the stars.

.

Claire realises that they've been five months in Hamilton and they haven't moved on. Haven't even thought about it. And she doesn't want to, either. Every other town they've been to she'd been too busy looking over her shoulder to settle in. And there'd always been something a little off, enough of a justification for her and Amelia to move on. And never have they had to leave anyone behind.

Here, they would be. And Claire can't bring herself to say goodbye to Lisa and Ben, not yet.

.

They make it to the end of the school year without incident. Which is nice. They even manage to scrape together enough for a summer vacation.

Claire wishes she'd been left with the talent of predicting the lottery, which would be useful. She has managed the skill of hacking credit cards, but her mother warns her off them with a narrowed glare. They aren't that desperate.

They drive up to Lake Michigan, the girls sharing the driving between them. Lisa refuses to let Ben drive; he's still four months off getting his learners' permit, even though he's been able to drive since the age of eleven.

Claire finds it difficult to relax, even by the lake. It doesn't stop Ben pulling her in anyway, tugging her under the lake's surface and splashing her with water every chance he can get. And Claire fights back dirty, using every trick she knows. She and Ben usually return to their cabin every night drenched, but smiling, one of them leaning on each other.

They even participate in family picnics, join in some of the other holiday goers attempts at a soccer game. Lisa and Amelia look blissful, a weight taken of their shoulders for that week alone.

Until Claire smells sulfur and sees a flash of black eyes and panics.

The demon doesn't notice her, so she tries to be subtle about it. They're out for a walk and it's not difficult to abort it by steering everyone back round to the cabin. Amelia catches what her daughter is doing, but stays silent on the matter until they are back.

Claire double checks the ward she carved into the door when they first got there. It's intact. Her mother hands her a bag of salt retrieved from the kitchen, and Claire lines the entrance.

"You think they came for us?" Amelia asks.

"No," Claire answers, as she thinks through their options. "I think if they were looking for us they'd be at our door right now. I don't even think they saw us."

Ben and Lisa are both staring openly at them. "Claire, what's going on?" Ben asks.

"It's nothing," Claire dismisses.

"Bullshit." Claire flinches at Ben's forthrightness. He's looking at the salt lines with wonder. "Me and Mom used to do that, you know. For months after we moved to Battle Creek, and we never knew why. I googled it one day. It's supposed to keep out evil."

"It does," Claire replies.

"Do we need to run?" Amelia asks. She isn't fully keeping up; she can see that Claire knows more about what's going on than she does.

Claire considers it. "If we're found, it's not going to be pretty."

"Will Lisa and Ben be in danger?" Amelia suspects she knows what Claire's answer will be.

"Yes." There is no doubt in Claire's tone about that.

"We run," Amelia says.

.

They all pile into the car. Amelia takes the wheel while Claire sits in the passenger seat, blessing bottles of water. There's a map open in front of her as she tries to pick a location. They're probably safe to go back to Hamilton, but they are already due to move on. A fresh start is best.

Ben suggests they go to Lawrence and Claire can't resist laughing.

"It wasn't funny." Ben's defencive, and Claire stops herself.

"Sorry," she says. It's not worth explaining to Ben why it's funny, that he'd suggest that they go to the town where the Winchester's first lived.

Amelia pulls over at the border between Indiana and Ohio. While she and Lisa go and get food, Claire focuses to see if anyone's followed them. She can't sense anything, but that doesn't mean they're clear. But she can't see any reason for them not returning to Hamilton.

.

Claire makes her mother stop outside their apartment when they get back to the city. She jumps out the car to grab a couple of things; copies of some of the Supernatural books and some supplies she keeps in a duffle under her bed.

Lisa and Ben are quiet in the car. Ben doesn't even protest when Claire orders them inside their own home. She lays a line of salt at their front door before lifting up the front mat to check the devils trap she drew there months ago was still unbroken.

She chucks a cannister of salt at her mother, who lines all the other entrances.

When Claire's satisfied the place has been fortified and that there is no smell of sulfur in the air, she sits down with Lisa and Ben. "What the hell, Claire?" It's clearly been nagging Ben.

"Demon." Ben and Lisa look incredulous in response. Claire grabs one of the books from the pile, a copy of  _The Kids are Alright_  and tosses it at them. "You know how you can't remember what happened at Ben's eighth birthday party? It's all in there."

Lisa opens the book. She scans through it, recoiling with disbelief when she reads the descriptions of her and Ben.

"Changelings?" Ben scoffs, checking the back cover. Claire nods, and Ben realises she's serious. "Why don't we remember?"

"An angel named Castiel wiped your memories," Claire says.

"You can't tell me you believe this?" Lisa directs this question to Amelia, who is leaning against the door frame, knowing that Claire is far better equipped to explain everything.

Faced with Lisa's inquiry though, she responds. "I thought my husband was going mad because he said an angel was speaking to him. He just vanished one evening. And twelve months later he turned up back on my doorstep. We were kidnapped, I was possessed by a demon, our neighbours were killed and we've been on the run ever since." She takes a breath. "It's real."

"So your dad didn't just wander off never to be heard from again?" Ben asks of Claire.

"He might as well have," Amelia curses in the background. "I'd rather have never know what happened to him than know all this."

Claire is more patient, and takes her time. "He became a vessel for the angel Castiel."

"That's the one you mentioned."

Claire nods. "They wrote a book about that one too. There's an entire series. The adventures of Sam and Dean Winchester, saving people, hunting things, the family business," she quotes. "All the way from a house fire in Lawrence, Kansas to the judeo-christian apocalypse."

"So monsters are real." Ben's expression hovers halfway between wonderment and panic. "And you saw a demon at Lake Michigan. Is that usual?"

"No," Claire says. "Something's been going on recently. I don't know what, but everything's gone topsy turvy. And whatever is going on, I bet the demons would really like to get their hands on me, and you guys probably look like decent bargaining chips."

"Why?" Lisa desperately wants to retrieve the whiskey bottle from beneath the sink and drink until this is all a dream.

"Because you meant something to Dean Winchester, and I think it almost got you killed before," Claire says.

.

They stay in Hamilton for a week. It's long enough for Lisa and Amelia to quit their jobs and for Claire to gather supplies. Technically, it's Amelia's turn to pick where they go next, but she's given her turn to Ben who has gleefully spread out maps over the living room floor and has a shortlist. So far, there isn't a city which Claire approves of on it.

She tells Lisa and Ben about anti-possession symbols. Lisa already has a tattoo on her hip, which Claire is grateful for. Ben is given a necklace, which should keep him protected for now, but a tattoo would be better. Lisa begrudgingly agrees.

Claire has hers, on the base of her foot. It's one of the first things she did when they left Bloomington. She knows her foot isn't ideal, but she's also reasonably certain that whatever Castiel has left in her affords her additional protection.

She teaches them exorcisms, in both latin and enochian, how to draw a devils trap and angel banishing sigils, a whole repository of lore. Lisa buries herself in the Supernatural books in an effort to understand. Claire finds her curled up to Amelia's side when she reads through  _The Rapture_  on the laptop.

Ignoring all of Ben's shortlist of cities, Claire instead plans a route through the midwest. They'll go down the Interstate into Kentucky, then across on Route Sixty Two, where they'll then decide whether to head up through Missouri or down to Arkansas. They've got a whole summer to find somewhere, or longer if they decide not to go back to school. But Claire would quite like to at least graduate high school, even if she never does make it to college.

It becomes clear that even travelling light, they'll need to take both their cars. Ben volunteers to ride shotgun to Claire before either parent can say anything. Claire had assumed the schoolboy crush he'd had had gone away, but she can signs of it reappearing in his face. Amelia worries about Claire running herself ragged driving all that distance, but there's not much that can be done. Ben gets a crash course from Lisa in case circumstances do require him to drive, but she leaves him with the stern words of "You're still four months off that Learner's Permit, mister."

Ben plays Zeppelin and Kansas when it's his turn to pick the music, seventies rock filling up the car. It's a contrast to Claire's sweeter, female vocalists. At one point they end up playing Taylor Swift, Ben making goat noises as  _I Knew You Were Trouble_ fills the car and Claire considers whacking her head against the steering wheel.

The miles end up flying by.

.

Claire halts at Kenett, Missouri, population 10,000. They pull into a motel tonight, splitting two rooms between them.

She and Amelia are familiar with the routine, but it is foreign to Lisa and Ben. For Ben, this new town is an adventure, while for Claire it is already something she is weary of. Amelia takes charge of finding them somewhere to live, while Claire focuses on making sure they stay safe.

The local high school is tiny, but Claire and Ben both enrol for September. It will add some structure to their lives at least, and serve as a well needed distraction from the strangeness. Ben complains, but Claire promises to teach him everything she knows. How to handle a knife in close combat, how to shoot a gun. There is a plethora of things Ben can learn which will be more useful to him than school.

Amelia finds work as a secretary, which isn't glamorous but someone has to pay the bills. Claire mutters something about credit cards, but Amelia counters that she will do no one any good behind bars on felony charges. And Lisa's found some odd jobs too, though nothing permanent yet.

They find a three bedroom apartment that is just about affordable, though one of the bedrooms is barely worthy of the title. A large proportion of Kennett's population lives on the poverty line, so they are comparatively lucky to have somewhere to stay and an income.

Claire carves devils traps into door frames, paints them under the doormats. The landlord gives them permission to repaint the walls. The main purpose of this is to get rid of the putrid shade of yellow in the living room that Ben is especially horrified by, but Claire laces the paint with salt, as a mark of extra protection. Warding sigils go up in all the bedrooms and the living room, where Ben sleeps. She doesn't know if the angels are still a threat, but they can at least be prepared.

Ben learns how to make hex bags, and slips them into every crevice they find. He's a sneaky kid, and paired with Claire's respectability people easily let them in places they don't necessarily belong. By the time they return to school in September, every crevice of Kenett is warded in some way.

.

Their rag tag family settles into life in their new town. It's Claire's final year at school, and Ben is seriously considering dropping out once Claire is done, despite her protests to the contrary.

The hell that is Kennett High School doesn't help.

It's not just that they don't fit it. They are hated. Reviled. Their classmates have all grown up together. The last new kid they'd seen had been a freshman three years ago and had lasted three months before moving on. Claire and Ben, with their different family dynamic and unusual ways, are an easy target to the rest of the school.

They aren't looking to make new friends, but that doesn't mean they enjoy the situation. It pushes them closer together than they already were, and Ben's crush hasn't showed any signs of going away. And it won't, as long as he only has Claire. And it's not that she minds, it's just one more thing that sets them apart from everyone else. They've made it clear that they aren't siblings, but how much anyone believes them is another matter. It's not as if Claire cares about propriety anymore.

Their relationship isn't the only one the school likes to gossip about, though:

"If I hear one more fucking thing—" Claire looks up from her position under a tree to see Ben storming out the building.

"What's up?" she asks as Ben throws himself violently to the ground.

"Everyone thinks our moms are sleeping together," Ben explains. "Did you remember lunch? I forgot mine."

Claire smiles and reaches into her bag. "Well, lucky for you, I didn't." She hands him the package of sandwiches she'd made that morning while Ben was still sleeping.

Ben unwraps the package and sighs. "Claire, you are a goddess." He takes a comically large bite out of the sandwich, almost chokes, but continues scarfing the sandwich down. Claire is far more reserved.

"You know, it's not that much of a leap," Claire says.

"What are you on about now?" Ben asks, then sits up ramrod straight. "Christ, our moms? You don't think they're actually doing it?"

"I think given all the shit we've been through, they'd have told us," Claire points out. She shifts closer to Ben. "We live in a three bedroom apartment. It's obvious that we're close. Assuming that our parents are together is the easy solution to a rather complicated issue. No one here has any imagination."

"Yeah." Ben's sandwich is finished. He leans back against Claire, who runs her fingers through his hair. She's humming under her breath, but Ben doesn't recognise it.

"Don't let it bother you. You know the truth, they don't," Claire adds.

Ben looks up at Claire. "Sometimes, I'm not even sure I know what's going on."

.

The year passes uneventfully.

Well, that's not completely true, but nothing awful happens. They stay put all year, and Claire reckons that's an achievement.

It looks like she's going to graduate high school after all.

They celebrate Ben's sixteenth birthday. He gets his driver's permit, and Claire takes him down to Memphis for the weekend and they just enjoy being teenagers for once. The music is more to Ben's taste than hers, but they both throw themselves into it. Neither of them knows when they'll next get that chance.

There's a nice guy who works at the library who takes a shine to Amelia. That is, until he meets Claire and Ben and Lisa. He can't handle the idea that these are the people who make up Amelia's family. Especially Lisa. He freaks at Lisa.

Amelia doesn't even seem that bothered by the whole affair. Lisa cracks open a bottle of wine and Ben retrieves the ice cream from the freezer and all four of them settle on the sofa for family movie night. After all, there's no good way to explain any of the shit that has happened to them over the years.

Privately, Claire thinks that there was no way that guy was any good for her mother, but it would be nice to find someone who could make Amelia happy.

And then there's Ben. The year has been good to him. He had all the hallmarks of being good looking at fourteen, but he's filled out this year, grown into his new height. He's still got some inches to grow, but he's taller than Claire now. And every so often some girl will break from the pack in order to flirt with Ben. Claire's secure in the knowledge that his crush on her hasn't abated, but it still unsettles her when Ben flirts back. No matter the fact that he always turns them down in the end.

.

That changes in April, when Ben says yes to a date. The girl in question is a junior with dark hair and a spunky attitude. Claire suspects that she's asked Ben out to piss someone off, but doesn't mention it.

They're going to the movies later than evening, and Ben's fretting. Lisa's still at work, and Amelia's in the kitchen avoiding the entire situation. She and Lisa aren't blind to the tension that is steadily brewing between Ben and Claire. Ben's crush is slowly developing into something more, despite this current mishap, and Claire clearly doesn't know quite what to do about it. There's not much anyone can do other than hope it all works out; it's not like they can step in and separate them. All the normal rules have gone out the window.

Claire's sitting on the couch reading a book while Ben paces up and down the apartment. He appears to be wearing something different each time he passes Claire, which is unusual considering he's the sort of boy to just chuck on the first thing that comes to hand that morning.

He lets out a noise of frustration, running his hands through his hair. Claire finally drops her book, ignoring the way the pages sprawl as it hits the floor, and walks over to him. "What's the matter?" she asks, though she can have a good guess. Ben's stressed.

"I don't know what to wear," Ben says. Claire wants to laugh. She almost does, but a pain rises in her chest. Ben is doing all this for someone else, and that hurts more than she expects it too. "Fuck Claire, don't laugh."

She remains tight-lipped as she examines what he's got on. He's found some khakis from goodness knows where, and has paired them with a battered t-shirt and it's not really working for him. Claire pulls a green button down from his pile of clothes. It's dark and faded, but it suits Ben. And she remembers that his favourite pair of jeans, which do make him look really good, are fresh out the laundry. She wanders off to fetch them.

When she returns, she finds Ben standing in just his boxers, struggling with the arms of the shirt. She chucks him the jeans before turning around. One of the side effects of living together is a lack of privacy, but that doesn't mean she's going to ogle Ben. As much as she might like too.

"I'm decent," he says and Claire turns around. His jeans are on, but his shirt is still hanging loose.

"Here, let me," Claire offers. Ben nods and stops, allowing Claire's nimble fingers to button up the shirt. When she's done, she runs her hands over Ben's front under the guise of straightening the shirt.

She's still not used to Ben being taller than her, even if it is only by an inch. She reaches up to try and smooth his hair, letting her fingers comb through his dark strands. They're standing close, too close, for the silence in the apartment, and Ben's looking down at her like she's the only thing in the world. He brushes a hand against her arm and is leaning down and—

"Better," Claire says as she steps back. He smiles at her, but he can't keep the disappointment out of his face.

He still leaves on his date. Amelia and Lisa declare it girls night in to try and cheer Claire up, who hasn't moved from the couch since he left. Legally Blonde is a ridiculous movie and exactly what Claire needs and she finds herself humming the songs from the musical along with the film.

And then they hear scrapes at the door. They all tense, but then there is a key in the lock. It opens, revealing Ben who slinks through the door hoping to be unnoticed.

He isn't.

"Christ," Lisa mutters when she sees him.

"I'll get the ice," Amelia says.

The edge of Ben's shirt is ripped, his knees are scuffed, and he's clearly going to have one heck of a black eye come morning. His head is dropped in shame.

"Who did this?" Claire asks. She can't smell sulfur; it doesn't seem to be anything supernatural, but she needs to know.

Ben doesn't say anything until Amelia returns with some frozen peas. He utters a quick thanks before pressing them to his face. She retreats, not even beginning to know what to say to him.

"Was nothing," Ben says, aware of everyone staring. "She just wanted to make some dude jealous, and I guess she succeeded." The movie's still playing in the background and none of the girls are paying attention, but Ben is. "Hey, I know this one. He's gay and european, right?"

Claire decides not to mention that that fact is from the stage show and not the film. Ben has apparently been paying more attention to her musical soundtracks than previously thought. And if Ben is well enough to crack jokes, well, he's well enough to be fussed over. "Is anything broken?" She runs a hand down one of his arms to check.

Lisa, satisfied that her son has suffered no serious damage, chooses this moment to make her exit, taking Amelia with her.

"No, Claire, I'm fine." Ben flexes the fingers of his hand to prove a point. "My face'll look lovely for a few days, but what can you do? I was stupid to think she actually wanted me anyway. It's not like anyone does."

Ben looks despondent. Claire reaches out, brushes the back of her hand across Ben's cheek. "Hey, come on, that's not true." She smiles.

"It is." Claire can hear the frustration creeping into Ben's voice. "No one wants to go near us. They can tell that there's something wrong with us, and I didn't ask for any of this."

"Neither did I," Claire adds quietly.

"Yes you did!" Ben yells. "I read the books. The angels require consent. You said yes."

"Because my dad was dying and my mom was possessed and he said he could fix everything," Claire screams back, not caring who hears. "Do you know what it's like having an angel inside your head? What it's like dealing with everything he left behind? Knowing that he'd have been fine taking you and leaving your dad to die?"

"No," Ben admits. "Because I don't remember anything."

A heavy silence settles over them. Both of them are breathing deeply, and they can't take their eyes off each other.

"Fuck, I'm sorry," Ben says.

"No, no, it's my fault." Claire runs her fingers through her long blonde hair, pushing it back from her face. "I'm just stressed, I shouldn't have let it get so far."

Ben pulls her in with an arm around her waist, and she settles against him, leaning her head into his shoulder. Her hair tickles, but Ben doesn't mind. Her presence against him is enough of a comfort.

Claire buries her head into Ben's neck. Her hands clutch at the edge of his shirt, and Ben can feel her breath hot against his pulse point as she breathes.

"It's okay," she whispers. "We're okay."

.

There's a newfound intimacy between Ben and Claire, but that doesn't mean it resolves all their problems. It's just comforting to have that presence to lean back into at the end of a long day.

Like now, as they drive back from vanquishing a ghost a couple of towns over. It had only been small, salting and burning the grave, and it didn't mean that they were becoming Hunters. It just meant that they couldn't sit idly by when they could fix the problem. Claire's exhausted, and she thinks nothing of handing Ben the keys to her car and falling asleep in the front seat.

They're almost home when Ben notices the first streak of light across the sky. By the second, he's reaching over to shake Claire's shoulder as he slows the car down.

Claire murmurs disgruntledly at him as she comes back to consciousness. Then she sees the lights. "Stop the car," she says.

They step out. There's a lot of people standing on their doorsteps watching; other motorists who have also spotted the lights have stopped. Claire is transfixed, her eyes full of wonderment and amazement and fear.

Ben doesn't like it. "What's happening," he asks at Claire's side.

It takes a moment. "It's angels," Claire says, voice full of an otherworldly note. "They're falling, they're falling from heaven." She shudders, a full body shake that takes her over. Ben wraps an arm around her shoulders. "They're screaming, Ben, they don't understand." She's near hysterics. "I don't understand why this is happening, they're falling, they're burning up; I can't do anything!" she screams.

Ben runs his fingers through her hair, turns her face into his shoulder. He can't hear the screaming himself, but Ben's never been possessed by an angel. Whatever Cas has left in Claire has permanently marked her in a way Ben can't begin to understand.

"How many?" he asks.

He can feel her tears running hot into his shoulder. With her hands clutching at the front of Ben's shirt, she lifts her face. "All of them." She can't hide the break in her voice, and Ben's heart breaks for her. There isn't anything they can do but watch the angels rain down to earth.

.

They sit in the car for a while after that. Ben wipes the tears from Claire's face, as she steels herself for what they have to do next. Because they can't ignore this.

When they reach home, Lisa and Amelia are both sitting anxiously at the kitchen table. There's a silver knife within reach, a bottle of holy water on the side. The small pistol they own is in Lisa's lap.

"I guess you saw them," Ben comments, helping Claire through the door. She's leaning on him heavily for support.

"Yes." Lisa is cautious. "What was it?"

"Every angel in heaven falling at the same moment," Claire says.

"Shit," Lisa says.

"Will they come for us?" Amelia asks.

That's the fear, what Claire was battling with in the car. She doesn't know what happened, but it's a fair guess that Castiel and the Winchesters are involved somehow. And they don't want to be found by the wrong people. "I don't know. Probably. They'll need vessels, and I'm tried and tested." She turns to Lisa. "Ben. Is there any chance that he is Dean's son?"

"I don't think so," Lisa says, but she doesn't sound certain. "The Paternity test says he isn't, but at this point, I don't trust that no one altered that either. Why does it matter now?"

"Dean and Sam are of the line of Cain," Claire says. "They are the perfect vessels. If Ben's part of that bloodline—" She looks at him, and Ben can see the fear in her eyes. "We need to go, now."

.

They pack up as much as they can. Their meagre collection of weapons goes in the trunk of Claire's car, as do all the books of lore. Warm clothes & non perishables for a life on the run. They still end up leaving a lot behind.

Claire carves extra sigils into the apartment as they walk out, hoping to ward off anyone who tries to come looking for them here. Ben puts her in the passenger seat, telling her to get some sleep. She tells him to head up the Interstate. They'll start by getting out of Missouri.

They drive through the night, with Amelia and Lisa following them. He wakes Claire up when he pulls over for gas, just as the dawn light has started appearing on the horizon. He asks where they're going.

"Montana," Claire says. "Best place to cross into Canada. The meteor shower, from all reports, was focused on the American midwest." Ben looks at her blankly, but then, he is running on empty at this point. "Get in, I'll drive."

He nods, and drifts off in the passenger seat. South Dakota drifts by around them. They pull over near the Montana border for food. It's a quiet, tense affair. The television in the diner is displaying footage of the meteor shower. So far, it's being treated as an unexplainable astronomical event.

They cross into Montana, heading up into higher terrain. Claire stops in the middle of nowhere. She pulls a brown packet from her bag, and Ben watches her closely.

The four of them stand in a circle, the cars on the side of the road. Claire hands the envelope to her mother, who opens it. She pulls out a pair of passports, and gives her daughter a look of utter confusion.

"There's an unmanned part of the border sixty miles from here," Claire explains. "You should be able to get across without problems. You'll be safer in Canada."

"What about you?" Amelia asks.

"I want answers." Claire says it with utter certainty. "It's been six years. Someone owes me them."

"And Ben?" Amelia raises an eyebrow at Claire.

"I'm going wherever Claire's going," Ben says. He sends his mother an apologetic look. "I want answers too."

Lisa knows there is nothing she can say to change Ben's mind. She simply hugs her son tight, cradling him like the child he once was and tells him to be good. Amelia holds Claire close. She knows, better than Lisa does, that this could be the last time they see their children.

Lisa looks to Claire. "Take good care of him."

Claire nods, though she knows she can't promise Lisa that her son will come back to her. But she will try her hardest, and that's all Lisa is asking. She and Ben both stand awkwardly as Amelia and Lisa drive off.

They drive back down the mountains. They should be thinking of a game plan, but neither of them has the energy. It's already late in the day. Claire just says drive, and sets a CD going.

It doesn't take long before they're both yelling along. Ben doesn't know the words but the chorus of 'blah blah blah' is easy enough to follow along. There's a moment where Claire looks across at him and he's drumming on the dash of her car while singing at the top of his voice and she can't help but laugh. And it's infectious, Ben in hysterics in the passenger seat. The world is falling to pieces around them, but right now they are together.

And nothing else really matters after all.


	2. Ben

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ben's playlist can be found [here.](http://8tracks.com/drinkupthesunrise/we-could-be-heroes)

It's been a month since the angels fell.

Ben and Claire still have nothing. No answers, no leads on where Castiel or the Winchesters are now, or any trace of any of the other angels. There's zip. The supernatural community is dead quiet on the whole angel business. Either they are keeping it to themselves, or they aren't aware that anything happened in the first place. Ben and Claire don't fancy being the ones to crack that secret wide open.

Ben watches Claire get steadily more frustrated every day. She's the one who knows about this stuff, and the brunt of the work falls to her, no matter how much Ben wants to help.

It's easy to find other things though. The angels falling doesn't mean that the other supernatural creatures have retreated. Currently, they're in Loveland, Colorado tracking what they think are a pair of Vetala. While they're here, they've also managed to make contact with a woman they know only as Susan Asimov, who seems to have a better hold of the current situation than anyone else they've talked to. They're driving over to Kansas as soon as they're done here to find exactly what she knows.

But for now, Ben's standing in the police station watching Claire argue with the receptionist. She's convincing in her role of the eager student reporter, with a fire that Ben doesn't have. It's why he lets Claire do these things. Authority figures respond better to her than they ever do to him.

"Just a couple of details, please?" Claire asks. "And then I'll get out of your hair, I promise!" Claire flashes her widest smile. Ben sweeps his gaze across the station. No one's paying them undue attention. He notes a window with a loose pane of glass that won't take much to crack. If they end up coming back, after hours, that will be their way in.

Ben shoots the receptionist his largest smile too, and she sighs. "Fine, fine." She waves her hand. Claire whips a pen out of her pocket and gets her notebook ready. "A couple of officers were called out this morning to a report of a dead body. We recovered it and brought it in. We can't comment on whether it is connected to the three missing persons' cases currently active."

Claire's features tighten as she scribbles it down, knuckles going white as she clutches her pen. "Anything else?"

The receptionist darts a glance back and forth. "I shouldn't tell you this," she whispers. Claire leans in. "I saw the body come in. There were these strange marks on his neck. They weren't natural, I swear it."

Claire beams. "Thank you so much, you've been super useful."

Ben watches the receptionist turn away. It's too much for her, he can tell. "I still don't know if this supernatural crime rag is your best or worst idea yet, Claire." He holds the station door open for her as they leave.

"We can hardly pretend to be FBI," Claire taunts back. "Give me another idea that'll allow us to ask about the weird stuff without being shut down, and I'm all for it." Claire's beat up little car is waiting for them in the parking lot, and Claire slips into the driver's seat. "So, do you want food or shall we go question Mrs. Hendrix first?"

"Food," Ben replies as he stretches out in the passenger seat. "I think she'll be the sort to feed us dainty biscuits and awful herbal tea."

Claire can't help but laugh as she starts the car. There's a little diner they saw on the way to the station, with free wifi advertised. They might as well try and find some info while they eat.

Ben wolfs down a hamburger while Claire has a salad and checks their blog. It's only been active a couple of weeks, but they're starting to get a steady influx of hits. People are starting to email them with strange things they've seen, things Ben and Claire wouldn't have noticed on their own. It's a useful cover for when they're working and gives them something to do, but it does have a purpose beyond that. Day by day, it gets them closer to unravelling whatever the hell is going on.

For now, they have to interview Mrs. Hendrix. Who serves them tea from her wedding china and is far more interested in telling them about her husband's faults than giving them answers, but they'll take what they can get.

.

Going after a pair of Vetala though? Is almost certainly the worst idea Ben and Claire have ever had. Finding them isn't the difficult part. It's everything after. That's where everything goes horrifically, horribly wrong. Claire thinks she has them, then she doesn't. Ben comes charging in, blade in hand, ready to defend her.

He almost gets the jump on one of them, but misses. He loses track of what happens after that; all he remembers is being thrust against the wall by an unseen force. When he comes to - and it can only be moments later - the Vetala are dead on the floor and there's a teenage boy kneeling over Claire.

The boy's hands are stained red with blood. Claire's blood. He's putting pressure on a wound on her stomach. Ben rushes over to her. She doesn't seem to know what's going on, assuming that the boy leaning over her is Ben. She's addressing him as such.

"We need to get her to a hospital," Ben says to the stranger. He's shown no sign of moving her, though Ben doesn't know if that would do her more harm than good at this point.

"Of course."

Ben blinks, and then there are the bright white lights of a hospital above him. Nurses sweep in and take Claire, laying her down into a bed, preparing a drip and talking about surgery. It all goes over Ben's head, until someone comes to him with a cup of water and asks him what happened.

Ben rambles off something he's certain the nurse doesn't believe, given the way she narrows her eyes at him. He mentions the other boy who brought him and Claire here, and that's when he knows he's lost her. A glance around the A&E department reveals that the boy, whoever he was, is no longer there.

He manages to wave it off to the poor nurse as confusion from the shock. By now, they've got Claire in a bed. She's been stitched up, the doctor determining she doesn't need surgery, but they want to keep her over night for observation. Ben sinks into the plastic chair at her bedside, and clasps her hand. She's sedated so she sleeps the night through, which Ben is thankful for. He's not looking forward to explaining this mess to her.

"Is she okay?"

The stranger is standing at the doorway. Ben could swear he wasn't there a second ago. "She'll be fine," he answers.

"Good."

The boy just stands there. Ben can see now that he must be about the same age. Brown hair hangs limp over tanned skin, wide eyes framed by a round face. His clothes are old and battered, and Ben wonders who the hell he is.

"You don't want to know." It appears Ben voiced that question out loud. "Don't tell Claire anything, either. She'll just freak."

"Can I at least get a name, seeing as how you know ours?" Ben asks.

"Jesse," he replies. "My name's Jesse." And with that he's gone.

It's got to be the early morning at this point, though the hospital lights make it impossible to tell. Ben decides not to worry about Jesse and whoever he is. He falls asleep, hand still wrapped with Claire's.

.

Ben wakes up still in Claire's hospital room. He spends a couple of hours at her bedside watching her, until she shows signs of stirring. Then, he calls a doctor. She gets released that afternoon, with the caveat that she spends the next two weeks resting.

She grumbles sitting in the passenger seat even as Ben drives her back to their motel room. She's set to walk the way to her bed, but stumbles over the first few steps, so Ben picks her up and carries her the rest of the way.

Her face crumples with displeasure as he places her down on her bed. He goes to fetch the laptop. He could always try and find something on the television to occupy the time, but it's easier to just find something online. Despite the fact that their taste in movies is completely different.

Here, Ben is completely happy to acquiesce to Claire over film choices. He doesn't even recognise what she picks, but if it makes her happy, he'll take it. The night spent in the hospital chair has hardly left him well rested, so he reckons he'll probably fall asleep halfway through it. Which he does.

It's remarkably easy to kill time watching daytime tv. There's a substantial amount of rubbish out there, which is fun to take to pieces together. Most days find them lying together in one of the twin sized beds, curled together despite the fact that they barely fit. They don't talk about the moments where their bodies brush against each other slightly too closely.

Ben doesn't talk to her about Jesse, either. All it will do at this point is cause Claire unnecessary worry, and that's the last thing he wants.

Claire gets better. Ben's overly cautious with her, but she doesn't take very kindly to it. Within a week, she's sparring with him in the motel room, joining him on morning jogs to keep her strength up. Gets back to research. The first call of business is to let Susan Asimov they're still okay following their missed rendezvous.

The submissions box on their blog has a couple of things in too. Claire's not written directly about the angels falling, but the blog is attracting its share of religious fanatics, conspiracy theorists and so called supernatural experts. And they're all fascinated by the meteor shower and anything that can possibly be linked to it. The only one that catches her attention is a link to a set of posts by a Reverend Buddy Boyle, whose name Ben does not recognise.

Claire clicks play on one of the videos. Ben doesn't really care about it; he dedicates himself to sorting supplies on the other side of the room. They'll be moving on soon.

It's background noise to Ben, religious garbage which he knows Claire gets incensed over. He keeps one eye on her as the video continues playing. She seems fine, until one line. "If angels come a knockin', you just let 'em on in, and fill yourself up with their grace." It unsettles Ben, but Claire goes pale and rushes for the bathroom.

He dashes after her, to find her dry retching over the toilet. He doesn't say anything, just waits for her to settle. His fingers wind their way into Claire's long blonde hair, grazing the back of her neck. He hopes the gesture is of comfort to her. Eventually, she leans back into him. "What brought that on?" he asks.

"The angels—" Claire breaks off. She's struggling to find the words to convey whatever it is that has bothered her so much. "They're recruiting vessels. Through a televangelist. All those people, thinking they're going into the service of god. They don't know the truth."

And now Ben knows. Her possession has always been a sore point. The idea of other people willingly chaining themselves to that power, without knowing what they're getting into, it terrifies her. "You know the truth," Ben says. "You could always tell them."

"Who'd believe me?" Claire replies. And that's the problem they've faced all along. No one - even the supernatural community - believes in angels. Claire is the only person they know, apart from Sam Winchester, who has been possessed and is still around to tell the tale.

Ben slips into her bed that night. She needs the comfort as much as he does, and sleep certainly comes easier when they are wound around the other. But it's hard to ignore their insignificance. Two teenagers in a twin bed in a motel in Colorado. What hope do they have of changing anything?

.

Ben goes out to fetch breakfast the next morning. He and Claire had gone over their options as the light started to peak in through the curtains. They're going to try and get in touch with Susan, and see if they can meet her on the way to Buddy Boyle's headquarters.

He arrives back at the motel room to see Claire browsing a local news website. "What are you looking at?" he asks as he hands her the foil tray containing her pancakes.

"Possible haunting in Payson, Utah," Claire replies. "There's a guy who seems to think it's related to a teenager who was killed recently."

"Let me see," Ben says. He wrenches the laptop away from Claire, who scowls in response. He sticks his tongue out at her. She sighs, and peels open the lid of her tray and forks a pancake. "Well, something's definitely up."

Ben places the laptop back on the table. Claire swallows. She rechecks the report, scanning back over it. Ben watches her face go pale. "The accident," she says. "It was the night the angels fell."

He leans over her shoulder. She's right. "Crap."

"Local teen Laurence Gunther died in a presumed freak accident," Claire reads. "With him was Aubyn McGill, who walked away unscathed. The email said she's now left town, with what seemed to be a personality transplant." She looks to Ben, whose face is only centimetres away from her own. "They were possessed, they had to be."

Ben nods. "So, roadtrip to Utah?" He smiles. "We could hit up the I70, it looks pretty sweet, and we could always head up to Yellowstone after?"

"I don't see why not," Claire replies. Ben moves to get their stuff, but Claire catches his hand. She pulls him back to her, leaning against the curve of his chest. He indulges her for a moment, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and pressing his face against her hair.

But only for a moment.

.

It takes them ten hours to drive up to Payson, Utah.

Ben does most of the driving, letting Claire sit in the passenger seat and watch the State go by. She fiddles with the music when she's bored, and Ben's treated to an amusing mix that he doesn't comment on.

He swears he catches Jesse's reflection in the front mirror a couple of times, but every time he turns around, the boy is gone. Claire hasn't noticed. Ben nudges her when they enter the city limits, and she shoots off an email to the guy they're supposed to meet.

After five minutes, they get an email back with a location. It turns out to be a small cafe, practically deserted. It seems like the locals don't get out much. Ben settles Claire in a booth at the back before ordering them both coffee and food.

The waitress brings over two bowls of soup before there is any sign of their guy. Claire quirks an eyebrow, but picks up a spoon gladly. It doesn't stop her being tense though. Ben can see it in the way her knuckles go white, the way she flinches every time there is the slightest bit of noise. He grasps her hand, threading his fingers through hers and feels her relax, take a deep breath and remain calm.

A guy in a hoodie walks into the cafe. Their waitress waves to him cheerfully in recognition, even as he looks around blankly. His eyes settle on Claire and Ben.

"Are you the guys from the supernatural site?" he asks.

"Claire and Ben," Ben says, extending a hand.

The guy takes it. His eyes rake slowly over Claire and Ben, taking in their weary faces, battered clothes and cups of coffee. "You aren't what I expected," he says.

Claire narrows her eyes. Ben can see it from the guy's point of view though; they are tired, more vulnerable, younger than he was expecting. Nevertheless. "I wasn't aware there was a standard look. You contacted us about a haunting, we believed you, and we're here to help."

"You're right." The guy takes a seat across from them. "I'm Cameron Forrest." He seems to expect a response to that, but Ben and Claire don't give him one. "I don't really know much about this, I'll be honest. I just mentioned some of the crap that's happening around here to a friend of mine and they directed me to your blog. It all seems a bit far fetched. But if you can help—" He trails off.

"It's okay to be sceptical," Claire says. "Most people don't believe until they've had an encounter with the supernatural. And a lot of our blog hits seem to be coming from people who are just curious."

Cameron laughs. "I read through the comment threads. Some of those guys are pretty out there." He pauses a moment. "What did you guys find that made you believe?" Claire and Ben both wear identical looks of horror, tight lipped. Cameron gets the message. "That's too personal, I get it."

He looks disappointed. Ben can sympathise - this sort of stuff is rough. "Sorry. We're not good company right now. Ten hour drive and such. And we've still got to find somewhere to stay."

"I've got a spare room," Cameron says.

Ben flicks his eyes to Claire. Her expression is guarded. She doesn't like this guy, but Ben didn't see much in the way of anywhere to stay on their way into town. "We'll take it."

.

Cameron's spare room has a double bed. He offers to make up the couch, but Ben waves him off. He's used to Claire's presence at his side now as he sleeps. They dump their duffle bags in the corner of the room and collapse into bed, Claire curling herself around Ben.

The next morning, the three of them drive out to the field where the accident happened. Ben takes the wheel, with Cameron providing directions from the passenger side. In the back, Claire pays little attention to the proceedings. Ben's starting to get concerned.

Her face is scrunched up when they pull over. Ben opens her door for her, noting the paleness of her face. She clutches at him, unable to support her own weight, and he wraps an arm around her to heave her out.

"Claire?" Ben asks, voice low and steady.

"An angel died here," she whispers. She keeps quiet because of Cameron, but Ben doubts she has the power in her voice to speak any louder. "Their grace, it's everywhere, in every particle and molecule, pain and confusion and fear."

"So we were right?"

Claire pulls herself up a little straighter, though the effort it takes her is clear. "I think so."

"You two alright?" Cameron, halfway into the field, is blissfully unaware.

"Yeah," Ben yells back. "Will you be okay if we go further in?" He tightens his arm around her shoulder in a manner he hopes is reassuring.

"I don't know." Claire sounds honest, which is a relief. "I think it was just the shock. Grace — it's weird. I can't explain it."

Ben doesn't press. Claire doesn't speak a great deal about the specifics of being possessed, but he gathers that Grace is a nasty thing. She's never spoke of it positively.

They walk around the field, but they don't find anything else. Ben thinks he catches sight of Jesse, again, sitting in one of the trees next to the field, but it's at a moment where Claire trips and stumbles. As usual, he's vanished when Ben looks back.

Claire looks better when they leave, but it's clear that the experience has left its mark on her.

There are other places Cameron wants to show them. A church where the altar had been destroyed; another where all the pews spontaneously alighted. He points out Laurence Gunther's mother when they stop for lunch, though it's clear she does not want to talk about her son's death. She brushes off Cameron's questions and doesn't even spare a glance for Claire and Ben.

Neither of them cares. They have a good clue what's going on here. The hardest part is working out what the hell they tell Cameron.

He's expectant, on the other side of the table. And when Claire's finished eating, the last of them to do so, he asks, "So, what do we do now?"

"You're dealing with a haunting," Claire says. "The easiest way to get rid of a spirit is to salt and burn the bones. But seeing as how what little of Laurence Gunther they found was cremated, that's useless to us."

Cameron doesn't look happy. "He might be hanging on to an object." Ben jumps in. "It's more work to find it, but the same result in the end. You salt and burn it."

"What are we looking for?" Cameron asks.

"We don't know," Claire answers. "It could be anything. Something precious to him, that he carried everywhere. If it's his tether to this world, it's got to be connected to him. We need to get into his life."

"I can do that," Cameron says.

.

They split up after lunch. Claire draws the short straw and has to investigate Gunther's house. She says it'll be easy, which Ben takes as code for breaking in. He has to go deal with the teenagers of Payson.

Most of Laurence's friends are recently graduated or in their senior year. Which makes them older than Ben. And yet they're still a bunch of idiots, rude towards Cameron and downright disdainful towards Ben. They don't even give them anything useful.

By dusk, they give up and go back to Cameron's, grabbing pizza on the way back. Ben hopes Claire's had more luck than they have.

He enters the house. Cameron's putting the car away somewhere, leaving Ben to cart in food and get plates. Claire's already at the kitchen table. There's a bible in her hands. Ben knows this isn't good.

"Any luck?" she asks as he sets the pizza boxes down.

"Nope. But I see you did?" Ben raises an eyebrow at her.

She turns the bible over in her hands. "It's his, well read by the look of it. And hey," she laughs, "even if it isn't what he's tethered too, we burn it and there's one less bible in the world."

"Yeah," Ben says. "I suppose it's what got him into this mess."

"I don't know what's worse." Claire's hands are tense on the spine of the book. "The proclamations which I know are false. The history that I know is true, because Castiel was there and he left it in my head. The predictions about the end of the world which almost came to pass. So much of the shit in Revelations came true, and no one's realised. People preach hate based on utter hypocrisy and there's no one even listening to their twisted version of faith. God's missing in action, the archangels are useless, missing or dead, all the angels have fallen—"

"Claire," Ben utters softly.

She turns her head. Cameron's standing at the doorway, still clutching his car keys. "Shit," she says.

Cameron's gone white. Stunned. Ben's concerned, but then he moves, settling himself in one of the chairs. A little colour creeps back into his face. "Who the hell are you?" He's angrier than Ben expects, hurt winding into his voice.

"It's complicated," Ben says. "You don't want to know, trust us."

"Ben's right," Claire adds.

Cameron stares at the wood grain of the table, as if he'll see the truth of the universe revealed in it if he looks long enough. Ben catches Claire's fingers in his, pushes the bible out of everyone's reach. Finally, Cameron says: "So God's real?"

"Unfortunately." Claire's tone is blithe. "But he's been gone a good long while. No concern for our paltry affairs. As far as we know. Things could have changed while we were out of the loop."

"Other people know?" Cameron looks almost faint, again.

Ben flips open the lid to one of the pizza boxes and shoves it at him. "Before it gets cold." Cameron lifts a slice, uncertain and with a shaky hand. "Trust me, just stop thinking about it.

"Alright," Cameron says.

.

After dinner, they take the bible out to the back yard. Cameron pours out the salt. Ben brings gasoline from the trunk of their car, just for good measure. Claire douses the book in it before flicking a match to set the entire thing alight.

It burns fast and steady, but with no sign of supernatural interference. Claire smiles. She reaches for Ben's hand, wrapping his fingers in hers as they watch the Bible turn to ashes.

Cameron is underwhelmed. "That's it?"

"Hopefully," Ben says. Given the lack of anything that happened, he considers it unlikely. The bible can't have been the tether; everything they've seen of Gunther indicates he'd put up more of a fight.

"We'll stay the night." In the light of the dying fire, Claire is once again radiant. "If that didn't vanquish him, we've probably just pissed him off. He'll strike again tonight."

.

The bible burning doesn't lay Laurence Gunther's spirit to rest. By morning, the bibles in every church in town have been burned. The fire department is mystified, and claiming a miracle that none of the buildings went up in flames.

"You definitely got his attention," Ben says. He's tempted to laugh. It's the smile on Claire's face that sets him off. Cameron watches them dissolve into hysteria on his kitchen table and upgrades his opinion of them from slightly eccentric to complete and utter maniacs.

They know Laurence will strike again that night. The most recently built church in town is dedicated in his memory; that's where Claire and Ben think he'll make his stand.

The sun hangs low in the sky when they arrive there. They'll be under the cover of darkness soon enough. Ben hands Cameron an iron poker from the trunk and grabs the shotgun for himself. He grabs a second iron rod for Claire, who's gone ahead, and loads his pockets with salt rounds.

From what they've seen of Laurence so far, it's not going to be enough.

Kneeling in the dirt, Claire breaks the chain keeping the church doors locked. "If you're going to run a church, at least have the decency to have it open all the time. Crises of faith don't happen on a nine-to-five basis."

In the church, they set up what they hope is the best line of defence. Cameron at the back, Ben in the pews, Claire standing up by the altar. It's like stakeout work. Sitting, in the quiet, waiting. Ben expects Cameron to break first. He doesn't.

Claire does.

"Laurence Gunther," she yells. The sound echoes off the church walls. "I know you're there. I know you're listening. I know what those angelic bastards did to you."

Ben has his finger on the trigger of the shotgun. Claire, pontificating, has no mind for her own defence. "They took you, they used you, promised that you could make a difference." The church takes up her words, reverberating them back at her. "Were you devout? Did you pray for this? What lies did they tell you to make you believe them so?"

A cloud of steam escapes her mouth. Visible. Ben can feel the chill in his fingers. Claire just smirks. "The angels burn as hot as the fires of hell," she says. "Do you think you'll go to heaven when you leave this world? A heaven where there are no longer any angels, no more of god's grace?"

Ben sees the glint of vibrating metal on the altar just before it goes flying. "Get down!" he yells.

Claire ducks just as the entire contents of the altar is hurled over her head. Ben throws up his arm by reflex. He doesn't need it; the objects clang on the floor in seconds.

There is frost creeping at the windows. Laurence's ghost must be close.

"There." Cameron's voice is unsteady. Ben turns, shotgun aimed and finger on the trigger.

"Finally." Claire speaks before he can shoot. "So Laurence. Will it be the Kingdom of Heaven, or the fire of Hell?"

Ben doesn't like the way she's goading him. Laurence stands not a foot away from her; Ben doesn't know if he'd get the shot off in time to save her.

"Go with your reaper and you might find out!" Claire screams at Laurence.

He is stock still. Doesn't flinch even as Claire's words strike him. It seems strange to Ben, for a ghost not to respond to such taunts. He steps forward a couple of paces, moving round one of the pews.

From there, Ben can see Laurence's face. The torture on it. "What's wrong?" The sentence falls out of his mouth before he can think.

"All the voices." Laurence speaks for the first time, voice broken in an echoing loop; haunting. "Shut up. Shut up. Shut up." He clutches at his face. There's another crash, this time displaced books. "This isn't what I want. They promised me I would be rewarded."

"They lied." Claire is quiet as she speaks of the angels. "They always lie. It's how they get what they want."

"There's nothing beyond here. No place to go. Everyone's screaming because they feel trapped."

Claire looks as confused as Ben feels. She knows some of the intricacies of what happens when people die. What Laurence is describing isn't true.

"What do you mean?" Claire asks.

Everything goes flying. Ben ducks as a cross is torn from the walls and hurled at his head. He can hear metal clang on the stone floor where Claire is. Lifting his eyes, he can see she's unharmed. And there's a figure stood in the rafters of the church.

Ben can't make out the details, but he'd put good money on it being Jesse. Which makes him breathe slightly easier.

Only, Laurence is centimetres from Claire, buzzing with ghostly power he should not have. "You say the angels lie."

"Yes."

"They lied about Heaven. There's nothing there."

"There is." Claire takes a deep breath. "It's not just faith. There is a Heaven. The angels didn't lie about that. I don't know what state it's in, but it exists."

"Then why is everyone screaming?" Laurence's words are an angry yell, channelling all those voices he must be hearing.

"I don't know." A tear drops down Claire's face. "I don't have all the answers." Laurence isn't satisfied. The walls of the church are shaking as Claire says the words. "We tried. Your body was burnt. We burnt the bible we thought your spirit might be clinging too. It should have released you."

Flakes of plaster crumble down. Beneath their feet, the very foundations are vibrating, buzzing with Laurence's anger. Flicking his eyes upwards, Ben sees that whoever was in the rafters has made a break for it. The building won't survive much more of the onslaught Laurence is throwing at it.

"Claire, we need to get out of here." She's trapped in the middle of it. Ben's not even sure she heard him. Not over the sound of the walls cracking.

"You need to stop this," she says. "It won't bring you peace." Ben walks up the aisle of the church, careful of each step he takes. "We can't help you if we're dead."

Ben grabs Claire's hand and yanks her close to him. Laurence stamps his foot out of pure frustration.

An entire wall of the church comes crashing down. Ben screws his eyes shut and braces for impact. Claire's hands tighten on his shirt based on pure instinct.

But nothing happens. Ben opens his eyes. There is dust in Claire's hair, but not a scratch on her. Jesse stands in front of them. "I've buried him in the veil," he says. "He won't bother anyone for a long time."

And then he vanishes.

Ben's starting to get really pissed off about that.

Claire unfolds herself from Ben. She looks in wonderment at the mess around them. "He's gone," she says, after a moment. "I don't know why."

Ben does. Ben's the only one who knows how a ghost of a teenage boy devastated the church, almost killed them, and then was vanquished by another teenager with as yet undetermined powers. Jesse told him not to tell Claire. Ben's starting to regret that decision.

"Cameron—" Claire starts.

"Fuck." Ben had forgotten. The crevice where they'd left him is still intact, but he's not there. They split up, calling his name.

Ben's the one to find him, crouching just outside the church. It had been a bit much for the poor guy. Ben can't blame him.

"So?" Cameron asks, when both of them have flopped down beside him.

"He's gone," Claire says. "And I don't think he'll be back."

.

They stay another day in Payson, a tense thirty hours which is uncomfortable for everyone. Ben and Claire pile their belongings into their car before the dawn breaks. Cameron doesn't say it, but he's glad to see the back of them.

They drive up Interstate Fifteen, blasting through Salt Lake City. On the shore of the Great Salt Lake they stop for breakfast at a little diner, draining mugs of dark coffee in silence.

After an hour, their waitress no longer bothers asking them if they want refills. She simply tops them up. Claire's half eaten stack of pancakes still sits on the table. Ben doesn't think she'll be finishing it.

"Do you think what Laurence said was true?" he asks.

"Hmm?"

Claire's not paying attention. She's been staring at the surface of the lake since they arrived. It's enchanting and picturesque, sure, but Ben doesn't get the appeal.

"What he said about Heaven. Not being able to get into it."

"I think Heaven's gates are shut," Claire says. "The angels were expelled from Heaven, and they don't seem to be able to get back in. And if Laurence was right about the souls—"

"Then no ones getting in," Ben finishes. "That's not good."

"It's not." Claire's brows are furrowed, the anger on her face contrasting with the morning light streaming through the windows. "I just—" She bites her lip in frustration. "If Heaven's gates are locked, someone should be doing something about it."

"They might be," Ben says.

"Given everything, do you believe that?" Claire asks.

Ben sighs. "No."

.

They mean to move on. But they waste the rest of their morning inside the diner. When they leave, they drive but twenty miles down the highway before Claire pulls up at the edge of the lake.

They haven't moved since.

The first day, they slept out under the stars. The second, Ben went exploring the woods that surround the lake, and found an unoccupied cabin. Now, it's just a matter of waiting. Waiting for something that gives them a purpose. All they wanted was some answers, and all they have is more questions.

They try asking. Susan Asimov, who had promised them info before, has vanished; emails to her address just bouncing back. A trio of kids in Kansas replies, but they know nothing more than they do. Claire's uninterested with striking up a conversation, so nothing comes of it.

It's been three weeks. Ben doesn't know what to makes of it. Claire gets up early in the morning; some days Ben manages to rise with her. He watches her perch on the edge of the lake in the dawn light. She's never looked more angelic than she does now, with a halo of golden hair and a white vest. She's ethereal; Ben struggles to believe she's real. Sometimes he thinks he'll lose her to another world, a world where she has more than the speck of grace that is threaded in her soul.

"She's beautiful." Ben jumps at the sudden voice beside him. But turning his head, he sees the fringe of dark hair and round face, beaten up clothes, and it's just Jesse, having dropped in.

"You think I don't know that?" Ben replies.

"Well, you'd be an idiot not to have noticed." Jesse smiles. "Seriously, mate, you should get on it."

"Unless you hadn't noticed, Jesse, life is a little complicated right now. We don't have time for things like that."

Jesse isn't much convinced, because Ben says all this with his eyes locked on Claire. "Guess you don't take after your dad as much as everyone thinks you do."

Despite the fact that Ben still doesn't know whether or not Dean is his father, he knows who Jesse is referring to. "Yeah, well, it's not like I remember anything of him. Kinda difficult to resemble someone you don't remember meeting."

"I could give you back those memories." Jesse says this casually, as if it wouldn't irrevocably change Ben's life.

It takes Ben a moment to realise what Jesse's said. He thinks about it; being able to remember what that year they supposedly spent with Dean was actually like, whether he was a good person before he turned his back on them. It's dazzling, the very thought.

A hand clasps at his wrist and Ben opens his eyes to see Jesse's face less than six inches from his, with a concerned look on his face. "Woah there," Jesse says, but there's a nervous edge to his voice. "Don't get carried away. I can't give them back now, I'd have to go digging in your head, and now is not the time. But some day. If you want them. They aren't lost to you forever."

"Thanks." Jesse sits back and Ben shakes his wrist free of his grasp. He misses Jesse's touch as soon as it leaves his skin, earthy and grounding in a way Claire's touch has never been. Glancing up, Ben sees that she's still sat beside the lake. She hasn't moved, and hasn't noticed the extra person sat by Ben. Which is good, because Ben wouldn't know where to begin with answering all the questions she'd have about Jesse.

Come to think about it, Ben has a fair few questions of his own. "Yo, Jesse," he says. Jesse looks at him. "What are you?" Jesse's gaze darkens. He ducks his head. "It's just—" Ben doesn't mean to upset him. "The teleporting. Disappearing and reappearing out of nowhere. Fishing memories out of my head. Whatever the hell it was you did in the Church. That stuff. Normal humans don't have that power."

"Normal." Jesse stands up. "That's the operative word. Normal's overrated. You know that. You're not normal, Claire's not normal, I'm not normal. I've learnt to live with it."

"I didn't mean it like that." Ben doesn't know how he meant it.

"Oh Ben." Jesse's tone is wistful. "It's complicated. You don't want to get involved."

"That's not your decision to make," Ben says.

"This time, it is." Jesse smirks. He pulls of cocky without looking like a complete dick, which for a seventeen year old is a good feat. Glancing over to Claire, he adds; "You should kiss her. Just go for it."

And then he's gone. Ben curses under his breath. But there's nothing that can be done, no way to summon Jesse back. So he just sits a while longer, waiting for Claire to get bored.

She does, eventually. It's two days after Ben has his talk with Jesse that Claire returns to the cabin and declares "I'm ready."

"For what?" Ben asks.

"Staying here isn't doing anyone any good." Ben realises that Claire has only come to this realisation recently, in the past couple of hours. "You said we could go to Yellowstone. And Buddy Boyle's still out there, in connection with some of the angels who fell. That's a place where we could get some answers. And there's got to be some psychics who the Winchesters didn't kill who could work out what's going on with the veil. Come to mention it, we could find the Winchesters."

"One step at a time, Claire," Ben says. "But yeah, we should go."

She nods. "Okay."

.

They pack up the car that morning. It doesn't take long; it's not like they have much in the way of possessions these days.

Claire sits in the passenger seat, with a map in her lap. Ben doesn't need it. To Idaho it's a straight road up the Interstate, and it doesn't take long before they've left Utah in the dust. Jesse's in the backseat - Ben catches his gaze once, in the overhead mirror. At this point, Ben thinks nothing of it. It's clear Jesse's been following them for a while now. Actually, it's good to know Ben hasn't scared him off permanently.

They're an hour into Idaho when Ben pulls over at a gas'n'sip for petrol and food. Jesse vanishes from the backseat as Claire steps from the car. Smart move. Apart from that, everything is normal as Ben fills the tank.

Except he lifts his face and Claire is as white as a sheet. Ordinary folk would say she'd seen a ghost, but that's not what's happened. Ben's seen Claire's face when she's seen ghosts, and this isn't it.

But he can't deny how pale she's gone. Her eyes are wide, mouth dropped open. Tracking her gaze, Ben mutters a soft "Oh."

He's seen that face before. Only once. In an old photograph Amelia has of her husband.

Which means that Castiel is standing in the forecourt of a petrol station in Idaho, which is the last place they expected to find him.

Ben places a hand on her shoulder. "I need to go and pay. Will you be alright here?"

"Yes." The word is uttered without a trace of panic, but Ben can see it nonetheless. Her hands are clenched by her sides, and now she's come to her senses her eyes have narrowed, and she's biting her lip in frustration.

The woman at the counter is blonde with a name tag that says Nora and is seemingly unaware that she's harbouring an angel of the lord. She makes polite conversation as she rings up Ben's total - the gas and the handful of chocolate bars he's placed on the counter. Ben waves the queries about their age off with a tale of gap year shenanigans and road trips, and mentions their trip to Yellowstone.

Castiel comes into the store just as she's handing Ben his change. "Steve, could you fix the slushy machine? It broke again," she says.

"Of course," Castiel says. He casts his gaze on Ben for a mere moment before turning away.

"Thanks," Ben says to Nora. "Where was that diner, again, I'm sure Claire's probably getting hungry in the car." Nora writes directions on the back of the receipt before waving him out.

Claire's still pale when Ben gets back to her. "So?" she asks.

"I don't know." Ben drops the bag of chocolate in the front seat. "He's going under the name of Steve. I don't think the other women here knows. He saw me, and I dropped your name. For all the good it might do." He shrugs.

Claire slides into the passenger seat while Ben gets behind the wheel. "What is he even doing here?" she asks.

"Your guess is as good as mine," Ben says. He turns the key in the ignition, about to put his foot down on the accelerator when Castiel dashes across to them and taps on Claire's window.

She scowls as she winds the window down. "I don't have time to talk," Castiel says in a rush. "My shift ends at six. I'll meet you at the end of the road."

"We'll be there," Ben says before Claire can open her mouth. There will be time enough for that later.

In the diner that Nora suggested, a half hour later, Claire sits with a cup of coffee and blurts out "What do I say to him?" And Ben has no idea.

.

They’ve got no closer to working it out when six o’clock rolls round and they find themselves parked at the bottom of the road waiting for Castiel. Claire’s fidgeting in the passenger seat, having given up trying to look poised.

It’s easy to spot Castiel’s dark head walking down the road. Ben nods in recognition. Castiel slides into the back seat.

There’s silence. It hangs thick in the air. Claire and Castiel haven’t worked out what they need to say to each other, and Ben is caught in the middle. Between a thousands of years old celestial being and an eighteen year old girl who’s had a taste of that power, whereas he is just an ordinary boy touched by the wrong circumstances.

“Seatbelt,” Ben says as he starts the car. He has the beginnings of a plan. “I’m going to get us all coffee from the diner up the road, and then we’re going to go far enough out that you two won’t level the city yelling at each other. Alright?”

They both nod. Which is good. Claire is on the brink. The moment she opens her mouth, it’s all going to collapse around them, the carefully constructed shell she’s preserved for so many months.

Leaving them in the car together is dangerous, but sending either of them out for coffee isn’t an option. There’s someone ahead of Ben at the diner, a student doing a coffee run for what must be an all-nighter.

“You shouldn’t trust him.” Ben jumps as Jesse appears beside him.

“Jeez, you have got to stop doing that,” Ben says. “We know what he’s done. But he knows more about what’s happened these past few years than we do, and we need to know what’s going on.”

“He tried to kill me,” Jesse says.

“I’m starting to get the idea that everyone’s tried that once.” The student moves on, with a drinks carrier full of coffee, leaving Ben to order. Luckily, the waitress pays little attention to their conversation.

“Seriously. There are better places to get information from.”

“Where?” Ben says it stronger than he means too. “I’m serious, Jesse. If you know someone better qualified to tell us what’s been going on, go ahead. Come to think of it, you could tell us, because there’s no way you don’t know more than you let on.”

Jesse scowls. “It’s not that simple.”

“Of course it is,” Ben says. “How much power do you have? Cause I think it’s a lot. And for some reason you’ve decided to stay out of this entire mess except stalking me and Claire, despite the fact that clearly you could do something.”

The waitress pushes Ben’s order over the counter, ignoring the argument. Ben takes it, single handed. “You’re a bloody coward, Jesse. And if you don’t get your head out your ass and decide to do something about it, you should probably fuck off.”

Unsurprisingly, Jesse vanishes.

Ben feels bad about it the moment he steps outside. But that doesn’t mean what he said was any less needed. Jesse is avoiding something.

For now, though, Ben has an angel and Claire to deal with.

.

Ben takes them off the main road and parks in what has to be the middle of nowhere. He takes his coffee from the carrier Claire has been clutching white knuckled.

Castiel takes the one she leaves. He takes a sip of it and shudders. Ben chucks some sugar and creamer at him.

Claire watches him with a cocked head as he rips open the sugar packets but tosses the creamer aside. "Huh," she mutters. "Dad had it white, no sugar."

"I'm experimenting." Castiel sips from the cup and seems satisfied. "The experience of food on tastebuds is completely different to what the molecules suggest.

"I shouldn't have assumed you'd be like my dad." Claire shakes her head and laughs, but her fists are clenched by her sides, her features contorted. "It's stupid. You aren't him. He's not even in there anymore."

"No."

Ben reaches for Claire's hand, twining his fingers with hers. "I think that's a good thing." Claire's voice is high, edging towards the hysterical. "No. I know that's a good thing. I don't know the specifics of what the hell you and the Winchester brothers have been up to, but it's got to be fucked up. The angels being cast out of heaven, the veil's screwed up—"

"You wiped my memories. And my mom's." Ben cuts her off.

"Ahh. You two worked it out."

"Of course we did!" Claire screeches at Castiel. "I knew from the first moment we touched. Your grace left its mark, enochian brandings that are as plain as day for anyone to read who can." Her brow furrows. "But you should know that. You should be able to tell; you're a fricking angel."

It's Ben who notices the narrowing of Castiel's eyes. "Claire," he prompts.

Claire brushes the back of her hand against Castiel's jaw. The grace he left in her should sing in response to him. Instead, there is nothing. "You aren't an angel anymore."

"You now have more grace than I do."

Claire slumps to the ground, tugging Ben down with her. She rests her head on his shoulder, stumped for a moment. "Fuck," she whispers. "This really is screwed up."

"That is a good summary of the situation." Claire looks up and Castiel is sitting directly across from her, blue eyes clear.

"Summaries are all well and good, but care explaining some of the details?" The father-daughter bonding time is all well and good, but Ben's having a hard time forgetting the way he blew up at Jesse. And he can't excuse that if he doesn't try and get the answers out of Castiel. "We know about the apocalypse and all that went down. All the stuff that's in the what-you-call—"

"Winchester Gospels," Claire chimes in. "I mean, obviously, Dean went to Lisa and Ben's and Sam got out of hell somehow. And then a bunch of shit happened that resulted in the angels being thrown out of heaven."

"We want to know about the bunch of shit."

"I raised Sam Winchester from hell," Castiel says. "And I brought down Heaven, albeit unintentionally. It's a long story."

"We've got time," Claire says.

So Castiel tells them. How Dean found Lisa and Ben and then took up hunting again. Rescuing Sam's soul from hell. Releasing the Leviathons. Purgatory. Metatron.

He leaves out a lot. He chooses not to reveal the extent of his treachery, or the way he suffered at Naomi's hands. There's a lot of this story that would be too much of a burden to place on children so young.

"I heard them fall." It's Claire's first interruption, as Castiel reaches the moment where the angels were cast from Heaven. "The grace you left in me, it let me hear them. Every scream as they plummeted towards the ground."

"I'm sorry." Castiel bows his head. "It wasn't just the grace I left, but knowledge. I thought it would protect you." He looks at Claire and Ben. "All it has done is driven you further into my world."

"We're here now," Ben says. There's no point thinking about the other roads their lives have led.

Castiel nods. "That's all I know. The angels can't get back to heaven, and Abaddon is running free."

"There's a bigger problem," Ben says.

"What?"

"When Heaven was sealed, we think it messed with the veil," Claire says. "We ran what should have been a simple salt and burn in Utah, a kid who died when an angel tried to possess him. He was stuck. I don't think anyone can pass through the veil into Heaven now."

"That is concerning." Castiel wrings his hands together.

"It's a fucking disaster." Claire does not mince her words. "Were you not listening? Heaven is closed to souls. Some of them will go to Hell, sure, but the rest will keep building in the veil. Hunters will run salt and burns and they won't work. We're heading towards a catastrophe, and people are going to die. And that's just going to make it worse."

"Have you told anyone?"

"We've tried," Ben says. "It's not like we're connected. Or that anyone would believe us, spewing crap about angels and the veil. It's a little far fetched, even for Hunters. And we're just a pair of kids."

"You haven't been that for a long time," Castiel says. "You are the heirs to the Winchester Gospels. In a way, there is something inevitable about this."

"Doesn't solve the problem, though," Claire says. "We need to put Heaven back."

"I'm afraid I do not know how. Neither does anyone else," Castiel says.

"That's not good enough."

Ben settles a hand on Claire's back, soothing her.

"I know," Castiel replies. But Claire remains unimpressed.

.

Claire and Ben return to their motel room with a sense of despondency. They know far more than they did, but are no closer to figuring it all out.

Ben drops the duffle bag in the corner of the room before grabbing some salt to line the entrances. They don't often bother, but they can't take the chance that Castiel was being watched.

He sits beside Claire on the bed. "Are you okay?" She was silent the entire way back in the car. He can't blame her, but that doesn't mean he's not worried.

"I just don't know what we're going to do," she says. Her bright blue eyes are wet; she's sick of being put together.

Ben sweeps her hair out her face, tucking golden strands behind her ear. "We'll figure it out. Together."

Claire lifts her face, then kisses him. It takes Ben a moment to realise what is happening, even though it has been forever since they were building to this. He kisses her back, softly at first, sliding his hand into her hair. But then Claire gasps, allowing Ben to slip his tongue into her mouth.

She grips the front of his shirt, pulling him close enough for her to slide her leg over so she's straddling him. His hands drop to her hips, holding her tight. The truth is, he doesn't really know what he's doing. Just that Claire feels good against him.

She breaks the kiss. Ben looks up to blazing blue eyes, golden hair falling around him. It's always difficult to tell what Claire's thinking, and now is hardly any different. He's worried that, if he says something, he'll break the spell.

Her hands slide over his chest, to the buttons on his shirt, and Ben focuses instead on the way her sweater has slid up and revealed a slip of skin, in the curve of her jaw as he kisses her pulse point. He takes his hands off her to allow Claire to pull his shirt down his shoulders, then pushes her sweater and camisole over her head.

She kisses him hard then, hands placed on his jaw. She nips her teeth on his bottom lip as he fumbles with the clasp of her bra unsuccessfully. "Help," he mutters between kisses. Claire laughs. She tugs at the bottom of his undershirt, and Ben takes the hint.

Claire is beautiful, lying on the bed as Ben undoes her jeans and slides them off her. Ben knows this; he's always known it. It's just shockingly clear when she's laid before him.

How to tell her that is more difficult than he thinks it will be. Clumsy is the best way to describe what he manages, but such things are usual. He loves her; loves the way she moves beneath him, the way she gasps with shorter and shorter breaths between kisses.

Maybe it's romanticism in the afterglow, but the spark of grace that rests in Claire seems to be alight, dancing in her veins until she herself is glowing. And that makes Ben a little smug.

But really, he's happy enough with Claire in his arms. They'll find some way to fix all this. For now, the best thing they can do is sleep.

.

Ben wakes up in the middle of the night. He leaves Claire in the bed, not wanting to disturb her; she sleeps soundly on, not even stirring as he moves, grabs his phone from his bag and slips out the motel room.

It's a clear night. The stars are out and shining. It's peaceful - there are no cars passing on the highway next to the motel, no one in the parking lot. It's a rare night where everyone has decided to be quiet. Ben flicks through the photos on his phone, pausing on a group picture of him, Claire, and their mothers. It's been a month since they last spoke.

Ben wonders whether to call. One of them would pick up, even at this time of night, but Ben has nothing to tell them that wouldn't be a burden.

"Hey."

Jesse's voice breaks the silence. He's leaning against their car, a subdued look on his face.

"What do you want, Jesse?" Ben asks. He wasn't really expecting Jesse to come back. He definitely wasn't expecting Jesse to be back this soon.

"You were right," Jesse says. "I'm a bloody coward. I ran away from this whole mess once before. I'm not going to do it again. You deserve better."

"You mean it?" Ben's tone is cautious.

"No more hiding. I'm going to do something good for once. Use my power for good." Jesse takes a breath. "I think I know how to restore heaven."


	3. Jesse

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jesse's playlist is [here,](http://8tracks.com/drinkupthesunrise/wild-youth) and is recommended listening (I mean they all are, but you know, really pushing this one.)
> 
> I'd like to take the chance to remind everyone that there is going to be a part four to this story and it will be out next week.
> 
> (my dissertation is due monday so if anyone out there feels like leaving a nice comment, it would be much appreciated.)

 

Jesse Turner never intended his life to lead him here, to a motel in Rexburg, Idaho, telling Ben Braeden that he could fix heaven. It wasn't in the plan.

Then, said plan was chucked out the window six years ago when he found out he was the anti-christ. So.

He figured he'd spend his entire life running when he left Alliance to avoid becoming a weapon in the war between heaven and hell. He's kept his nose out of things since. Lucifer's power had vanished six months later, and his powers had become less unstable.

Until two years later, when Jesse's almost got a life sorted for himself in Australia, when someone unlocks the floodgates. He knows Lucifer's not out his cage - this power is different, more wild, older somehow. It's more difficult to control. Jesse retreats to the outback for a couple of years just to make sure he doesn't accidentally warp reality.

He's okay these days. Keeps his power bubbling beneath the surface in case he needs it, but there are no more accidental deaths. Despite the fluctuating power, evidence of a battle still raging between heaven and hell, Jesse ignores it in favour of leading a normal life in Brisbane.

And then the angels fell.

.

It's daytime when the angels fall in Australia. To the average observer, it's unnoticeable. But Jesse isn't average. He can feel the grace crashing to the ground. The next day the news describes a mass meteor shower focused on the American midwest.

Jesse doesn't exactly fancy coming across a bunch of angry, fallen angels. The last one he came across tried to kill him, and Jesse managed to stop him because he didn't have the might of heaven behind him at the time. His chances against a group of fully powered angels aren't good.

What he needs is info. Why the angels fell, and quite how long they'll all be down here. And the best person to give him that, however much Jesse hates it, is the angel who tried to kill him all those years ago. He can track the grace.

It takes him a week, what with all the excess floating around and the fact that whatever there is left is extremely faint. That reassures Jesse. Whoever is on the other end doesn't have the power to hurt him.

That's how he finds Ben and Claire. For Castiel isn't on the other end of his grace, Claire is, with strands of it threaded into her soul.

He thinks they're interesting. It's the only reason he sticks around. Well, that, and the fact he doesn't know where else to start looking. Ben and Claire are searching for the same answers he is.

So he starts following them, invisible in the back seat of their car. Occasionally he pops off somewhere else, something else that needs dealing with, time he needs to himself.

It's luck that he's around when Claire is bleeding out on the floor. He doesn't mean to reveal himself to Ben, but Claire is dying. And that's one of the things Jesse isn't very good at. He doesn't know if he has the ability to heal others - he's never needed it, never tried, and now seems a stupid place to start. Ben's suggestion of "hospital" is one Jesse can cope with. Claire lives.

Jesse follows them a little more carefully after that. Firstly, because he wants to know if Ben'll keep his secret. Which he does. Jesse's surprised. And then… well. Jesse likes them.

Possibly a bit too much for his own good, really. Claire's beautiful, any boy would be mad not to fall for her, and Ben. Ben's got charm; Jesse appreciates that.

It's not so charming when Ben's accusing him of being a coward. No matter that he's right, of course. Claire's righteous in all the right ways but Ben has a knack for truth.

He sticks around for their meeting with Castiel. Takes the chance, while he's distracted, to have a little poke inside his head. Which is how he finds the real story, with all the bits that were left out, and the details of the spell that took down heaven.

Jesse can't just sit on this information. He doesn't hate anyone in the world that much. So he ends up, in the motel parking lot, declaring that he'll join the fight.

After all, a child of hell restoring heaven? It's got to be fun.

.

How, of course, is Ben's first question.

Jesse's not totally sure on that one. The easiest way to reverse a spell is to deconstruct the elements of the original one.

Which meant knowing the original ingredients to a spell (usually tough, experienced spell casters tended to make up their own), and then knowing what elements to use to reverse it (easy, as long as the ingredients were ones documented.)

Jesse has the first part down. The second, not so much. The death of a nephilim, a cupid's bow, and Castiel's grace. Claire has the last part of the equation. To dismantle a cupid's bow; perhaps a soulbond, something forged by the cupids? Or something that would pervert true love. Some research will have to be done.

And the nephilim? That's going to be the toughest. The conception of a new child of heaven would be the obvious solution, but more difficult in practice. There is another solution. Jesse's not thinking about it. He's trying to become a better man, but he's not that good a man.

"I'm working on the details," is what he tells Ben.

"Because it's like three in the morning, I'm going to let you get away with being vague," Ben replies. "And I'm telling Claire. No more games."

"That's fair enough."

Jesse disappears once again.

.

The thing is, Claire complicates everything. Jesse thinks she’ll know what he is. He’d been lucky to avoid catching her attention in the church; now, he has no such chance.

Ben has his phone number. Or at least, Jesse programmed it into his phone, and then put it on a card in Ben’s pocket for good measure. He’s hoping Ben’ll give him a heads up before he tells Claire.

Jesse gets a couple of text messages the next morning. The first reads Smooth Jesse. If this is you. Let me know and the second Okay, taking Claire to a diner to fill her in, pls come so I don’t look insane. Ben, thoughtfully, has also attached the address of said diner.

Their beat up car is outside when Jesse gets there. Through the window, he can see Claire pushing waffles around her plate while Ben eats steadily through a stack of pancakes.

Jesse breathes deep.

He ignores the waitress on the way in, grabs some sugar from the stand, slides into the booth next to Ben, pours the sugar into Ben’s coffee cup and takes a long swig.

“Excuse me?” Claire is about five seconds away from punching him. Jesse grins in response.

“Christ,” mutters Ben. “Jesse, you can’t behave yourself for one minute?”

“You know him?” Claire strikes in, indignant, the spark of grace flashing in her eyes as her temper rises.

“Unfortunately.” Ben eyes his coffee cup, now empty, then Jesse, who has made no attempts at presenting himself decently for the occasion.

With a twinkle in his eye, Jesse presents a hand to Claire. “Lovely to meet you at last,” he says.

Claire regards him with narrow eyes. She doesn’t like the way he’s barged in, but she sees no harm in taking his hand. Ben trusts him. She presses her palm to his and slides her fingers round for a handshake.

And feels the burn of hellfire. Grace shrieking in response to nature’s violation before her, a child of hell with darkness in his veins. She drops his hand.

“Cambion,” she says, finding the word in the back of her head. “You’re a Cambion.”

If Jesse is shocked, he doesn’t show it, except for a minute widening of the eyes Claire catches. Ben, besides him, is less stoic. “What?”

“He’s the spawn of hell.” Claire, over her surprise, grabs the salt shaker on the table. It won’t do her much good, but it’s better than nothing. “Get out, get away from here, get away from him.” Grabbing Ben’s hand, she sends a wave of salt at Jesse.

He doesn’t blink. Salt irritates him, but it doesn’t burn in the way it does for demons. He’s not fenced in by it. “You’re going to have to do a lot better than that if you want to be rid of me, Claire.” Jesse stands up, puts a finger to a napkin. He’s feeling petty. “But I know where I’m not wanted.” The napkin goes up in flames. “Call me when you decide that putting Heaven back is more important than your prejudices.”

He walks out the diner. Doesn’t spare a thought for the disappointed look that Ben must be shooting at him.

The ball’s in Claire’s court.

.

Ben texts. Jesse doesn’t reply to any of them, but it’s nice to know that he’s not completely abandoned. It doesn’t seem that Claire’s calmed down at all since her outburst, but she hasn’t swayed Ben to her way of thinking.

Ben hasn’t managed to sway her to his though. Jesse owes him an explanation, before he can even begin trying with Claire.

His best bet is to break Heaven open.

Claire’s right. He’s a creature of Hell. Interfering with Heaven is dangerous. If anyone gets wind of what he’s trying to do, he’ll be in trouble. The angels will not take kindly to a Cambion in their affairs.

It won’t stop him.

Ben’s right. He’s stayed out of this fight for long enough.

The pesky question of unravelling the cupids’ bow is the first thing he has to tackle. He has solutions to the rest of it. There’s the thought of using a soulbond. It’s a stupid one. Jesse can’t detect them. It’s a mark of heaven, and one much more subtle than the grace contained in Claire.

He doesn’t think Claire has enough grace in her to read them either. He could kidnap an angel.

Nope. That’s the worst idea he’s ever had.

So. He’s from Hell, it’s time to start using that to his advantage. Despite the fact that he’s never, you know, seen hell. There has to be an object from Hell that can sever a cupids’ bow.

There’s an old witches shop in Brisbane that he likes. Lots of rare books. If there’s an answer anywhere he knows, it’ll be there.

It’s run by a woman who must be in her late forties, but doesn’t look a day over thirty-five. Jesse doesn’t know what her deal is, but she was here before the world started falling to pieces and Jesse expects she’ll be here after. Most importantly, she doesn’t ask questions when Jesse appears in the middle of her shop.

He picks a book off her shelves, without looking at the title. “Minerva, what do you know about weapons of Hell?"

“You got something on your mind, Jess?” She raises an immaculate eyebrow, nods her head towards the book in his hands.

Jesse flips it round and reads the title. Fifty Ways to Get Your Love; Tokens and Spells for the Modern Witch. He drops it. “Why do you even have that junk?”

“Sells well.” Minerva picks it up and puts it back on the shelf. “Real question is why did you pick it up?”

“Not important.” Jesse doesn’t think about tall boys with tousled brown hair, or girls with bright blue eyes and a flash of something else in them. He reckons Minerva is still onto him. “My first question though. Weapons of Hell?”

She sighs. The long dark braid of hair that falls most of the way down her back swings as she reaches for a few books on the top shelf. “Not as much as you want me to know. Hell doesn’t really do weapons in the way it does people. There’s the First Blade, but that’s a legend; people have been tracking it for years and I know no one who’s successful. Wouldn’t want to tangle with whoever has it.”

Jesse takes one of the books, titled The Magus. “I need something that would combat a cupids’ bow.”

“What the hell have you gotten into?” Minerva asks. “Wait. I don’t want to know.” She flips open another of the books. “Cupids’ bows are powerful magic. Don’t find them around much. Your best bet would be to find a weapon of a Knight of Hell. Asmodeus’s, if you could, he’s the Demon most commonly associated with lust. Or Mammon, Barett corresponded him with tempters and ensnarers.”

“Any ideas where to find them?” Jesse takes the rest of the books.

“You are on your own. I am not getting caught up in it.” She waves away the cash Jesse pulls out. “Better if no one can track you here. By any means. Rumour is that one of the knights is back. It’s dangerous stuff you’re getting yourself into.”

“It’s my birthright,” Jesse says.

“All birthrights do is get people killed,” Minerva warns. Jesse smiles at her, gives her a two fingered salute and vanishes.

.

Jesse spends two weeks doing as much research as he can. He doesn't check on Ben and Claire while he does so. If they're in trouble, he'll know. If they want him back—

Ben'll call.

Information on Mammon is hard to come by. Jesse doesn't think it's the right direction to be looking. Asmodeus. There's a route with more promise. Biblical lore indicated he fought with Raphael at some point. Slit the throats of the husbands of a woman named Sarah. She was important somehow.

Jesse doesn't really care about her. But Asmodeus must have had a blade, iron-forged Jesse imagines, to fight Raphael, to do the damage he did. That blade is the key.

He can't find any trace of the damn thing. He scours the middle east. Walks across the Himalayas looking for a hint of the demonic power such a thing would radiate. There's nothing. Whoever had it last hid it well.

Standing at the top of an unscaleable mountain is lonely. The view is devastating, harsh white snow on unforgiving cliff faces, just waiting to send someone to their death. Jesse doesn't like it.

He longs for the comfort of a familiar face.

He can't track Ben, not without a good deal of work, but Claire lights up like a Beacon. So he appears outside their motel, shielded, hoping for the best.

Ben is in the parking lot with a match poised over a bowl of herbs. A summoning spell of some kind.

"Yo." Jesse slips into the usual plain of existence.

"I hadn't struck the match yet, how'd you do that?" Ben discards the bowl.

"That summoning was meant for me?" Jesse peers at the contents. "Wouldn't have worked. You've got my phone number. Why didn't you try that?"

"I have." Ben wears an exasperated expression. "Two, three times a day for the past week. None of them have gone through."

Jesse pulls the damn thing out his pocket. It has, as Ben said, about twenty missed calls and a good many more text messages. They all seem to have come through in the last five minutes. You don't get service at the top of a mountain. "Sorry."

He doesn't know what else to say. Doesn't really know what he wants, except that he missed Ben. It's dark out, but the motel windows are all lit up, lighting Ben's skin enough to show the curve of his jaw and cheekbones that are just starting to become prominent.

"You're a cambion," Ben says. "That's what you didn't want to tell me."

"Yes." Jesse drums his fingers against each other, fighting the urge to run.

"Claire explained. Or at least, she told me what she thought it meant. Got a little heavy on the whole potential to destroy the world thing."

"She's not wrong."

"Just cause you have that power, doesn't mean you'll use it," Ben says. "I don't think you will. You haven't so far. Claire just needs to realise that."

"And how's that going?"

Ben narrows his eyes. "She'll get there." Jesse scoffs. "She knows we need you. You're the only one who has any clue on where to even begin restoring heaven. We ran into an angel the other day, and he didn't have any answers for us. She's angry. We don't have enough power to do anything, and it frustrates her. And then you show up, with an incredible amount of power—"

"But I'm not overconcerned with using it," Jesse finishes. "I get it. This sort of thing seems fun until you have to live with it. Then it's just a drag. I don't belong anywhere, Ben." He pushes himself off the floor.

Ben leaps up. "Stay with us." There is truth in his eyes.

"Even if Claire says yes. I'm only good to her until I've unlocked Heaven. What then? Doing that's gonna put me on the map. There's a Knight of Hell wandering the earth. Who knows what she could do with me."

"I won't let that happen." Ben stands barely an inch from Jesse. Close enough to kiss, if Jesse could bring himself to close the distance. He can't.

Jesse laughs. "Ben, you would not stand a chance against Abaddon. She is war and destruction, she leaves them in her wake and a single teenager means nothing to her. She would cut you down in an instant." Ben hasn't taken his eyes off Jesse. "I appreciate the thought, though."

Jesse turns his head. It's less tempting when he isn't staring directly at Ben.

"How are you doing with the spell?" Ben asks.

"I've got a couple of leads, hit some dead ends," Jesse says.

"Anything we can help with?"

"Probably not. I'm trying to find a blade of a Knight of Hell."

"Sounds fun." Ben says it with a smirk.

"Climbed a lot of mountains," Jesse says. "No sign of it so far."

"If anyone can find it, you can."

"True," Jesse says. "But I'm not fond of looking for things that don't want to be found."

"I'll get Claire on it," Ben says. "She'll come round."

"If you say so." Jesse stands awkwardly, hands in pockets, against the car. "I'll see you, then?"

"Pay attention to your phone this time, dumbo." Ben's smiling, and gives a jaunty wave.

Jesse runs a hand over their car before he vanishes. He refuses to admit the way his heart skips.

He's in too deep.

.

_Claire gives in. Come back._

It's been three days when Jesse gets that text. It doesn't include a location. Not that he needs one.

They're in a motel room. Claire with her arms crossed, books piled on the singular desk, an unmade bed; all signs they've been there a while.

"Ben says you can unlock Heaven." Claire's voice is flat, with a commanding tone. It would make lesser men fall back in fear.

"I'm working on it," Jesse says. "Could do with some help. The spark of grace you carry in you. I'll need that eventually."

"Of course." Claire is casual about it, but Jesse can tell there's more going on. He doesn't know if it'll be relief or regret when he takes it from her. "What else?"

"The Blade of Asmodeus."

Claire nods. "The guy who murdered the husbands of Sarah, Raguel's daughter?"

"Yeah. He's one of the Knights of Hell. I've been scouring for his blade the last couple of weeks and I can't find it."

"Asmodeus is dead, right?" she asks.

"Should be. Then, they said that about Abaddon, but she's still around. But I think they're right with Asmodeus. I think I'd be able to tell, otherwise." Jesse shrugs his shoulders.

"Okay. We'll look into him, see if we can narrow down what happened to it. You keep searching the old fashioned way."

"Whatever you say Novak." Jesse gives her a lazy salute.

Claire turns to Ben. "Is he always like this?"

"No, I think this is just for you." Or rather, Ben thinks, Jesse being flippant is an act to disguise the fact he cares. Ben knows Jesse's capable of being serious.

"Knock it off, then."

"Aye aye sir." She glares at him; violent, righteous, and Jesse tightens his face, loses the smile. "Couldn't resist. I'll see you guys in a week for a progress report. Or, if you need me sooner, you've got my number."

At the top of the Appalachian trail, Jesse thinks that that went better than he expected. Which is something.

.

True to his word, Jesse turns up again a week later.

Perhaps he should have warned them first. Because Ben's shirtless, Claire's jeans are round her ankles and he's kissing her like he'll never get a chance to again. The only reason his jeans are still on is because Claire's having trouble with his belt, and Ben's too busy having his hands up her vest to help her.

There's only so long Jesse can appreciate the view before common courtesy kicks in. He coughs.

It's amusing, to see Claire stop instantly, her hands grab the sheet to protect her modesty. "Jesse!" she shrieks.

"You could warn a man," Ben says. He's not as perturbed by the whole situation as he really should be.

"I'm going to get food. I'll be back in twenty minutes, and you guys better be decent."

There's a diner not far down the road. Technically, Jesse could go anywhere in the world for food, but it seems excessive. He consults the clock, realises that the appropriate meal to order is Breakfast, and does so.

One order of banana pancakes, a fry up, scrambled eggs and strawberry milkshakes all round later, Jesse is back at the motel.

Claire's ignoring the fact it's November and has pulled on a pair of shorts. Ben's ignoring the entire decency thing that Jesse asked for and is wearing only a towel slung low on his hips.

It's difficult not to stare as they take the food off Jesse's hands. Claire's lying on the bed, laptop open in front of her. Ben's just standing there.

"Any luck?" Claire asks.

"Nope. I even scoured the Marianas Trench." Jesse shudders. "Not an experience I want to repeat. You guys?"

"We found a couple of things," Claire says. Jesse can hear Ben rustling around in the background, presumably fetching some clothes so he's not just wandering about in a towel. "Went looking for the Knights of Hell. There's a lot of scholarly work on them but little actual evidence of anything any of them have done apart from the quasi-canonical biblical texts. Last trace we have of Asmodeus is in the twenties. We think he's dead."

"I knew that," Jesse interjects.

"Well, we were checking," Claire retorts. "The last anyone hears of the Knights of Hell is in the fifties, which is when the Men of Letters organisation combusts. They're the ones responsible for tracking down a lot of this info, only problem is - they're secretive."

"Paranoid delusional spy secretive," Ben chips in. "And they went down in the fifties, so Internet's a bit sparse with info."

"We're getting there," Claire says. "We're trying to work out who killed the Knights. If it was heaven, they kept darn quiet about it. There aren't many things that can kill a Knight. The rumour is it was the First Blade."

"Yeah, I heard that. Any idea what the heck that is?"

"I think it's what Cain used to murder Abel." Claire is cautious. "I'm glad we're not looking for it."

Jesse is as well. A weapon with that sort of power - it could probably bring him down. He doesn't fancy finding out if that's true.

"So what's the plan." Ben is now, thankfully, wearing an undershirt and jeans, and is in the process of grabbing a hoody.

"We need to find the Men of Letters Archive." Claire clicks to something else. "Last trace we've got of them - I think - is a massacre in Illinois in 1958." She brings up a news report. "An incident that blinded one man and left the other four members presumed dead. David Ackers, Ted Bowen, Josie Sands and—" she pauses. "Henry Winchester."

"That's not a coincidence." Jesse leans across the bed to get a closer look. "And that's Abaddon's latest meatsuit." He points to the woman in the photograph.

"So what?" Ben sits on the bed. "We go find the Winchesters and hope they know about the Men of Letters and give us the answers we want? Seems like a long shot."

Claire grimaces. "Unfortunately, it might be the only one we have."

.

It is. They spend a couple of days looking for other options, other leads, but they have none. So Claire drives them all out to a field in the middle of nowhere so she can call Castiel without worrying about the call being tracked.

Ben and Jesse watch her from the road. She's pacing back and forth, her braid of blonde hair bouncing from shoulder to shoulder as she gestures wildly. But she hasn't brought down the wrath of heaven, so it's all good.

When she hangs up her cell, she walks briskly back to the car. "We're in luck. The Winchesters are Men of Letters. And they've got a bunker in Lebanon, Kansas."

"Great," Ben says, but Jesse can tell his heart's not in it.

"There's a case in Wyoming. If we step on the gas, we'll be in Lebanon and in the bunker before they know it. As long as you're up for a spot of breaking and entering." Claire smiles.

"We could have a race," Jesse suggests. "First one in wins a prize."

"The place is warded," Claire warns. "You won't be able to zap in. You might not even get in at all."

Jesse waves her off. There's joy back in Ben's eyes, which is enough. "Pah. There's not much that can keep me out." He throws an arm around Ben's shoulder. "Come on, Novak, Braeden, lets get going."

Claire is onto his game, but she doesn't say anything as she slides into the passenger seat. Both she and Jesse know the time will come when Ben has to come face to face with Dean.

But that time isn't now. So they drive on.

.

Claire stops for the night in Hastings, Nebraska. She pulls into a motel where the parking lot is familiar. Ben goes off to fetch dinner. Jesse disappears to wherever he disappears too.

She knows this place. Not well, but she knows it. It's the first place she and her mother fled. They stayed at this motel, in room number nine, until they found an apartment a week and a half later. There's a payphone in the parking lot, and its tempting to pick it up and dial her mother's number and hear her voice.

Its dangerous too. There's a reason they've barely spoken since parting ways. Most of the time, Claire doesn't miss her. She has been the responsible one for so long. It doesn't mean she always likes it.

"Penny for your thoughts."

Claire jumps. Jesse's behind her, twirling a cigarette between his fingers. She didn't know he smoked.

She doesn't know much about him. "Would it kill you to warn a girl?"

"Wouldn't be half as much fun." He smirks, then lets out a puff of smoke.

"Screw you, Jesse." Claire slumps to the floor, leaning against the shitty plastic screen which protects the payphone.

"If only," he mutters. "Are you alright?"

He looks genuinely concerned, which surprises Claire. She'd been sure he didn't like her. She's given him plenty of reasons to. But he watches her, taking in the tightness of her face, the dark bags under her eyes. He knows what the answer to the question is, but is asking it anyway.

"I'm just tired." She fobs him off. It's too complicated.

He doesn't push. Just slides down to sit beside her, offers her the cigarette, and takes it back when she shakes her head.

He takes a last drag, then stubs the cigarette out with his foot. "You can tell us if something's wrong."

Claire leans her head on folded arms, golden hair spilling over her like a protective curtain. "It's nothing." She pauses. "I was here with my mom, once."

Jesse nods. "Difficult not to be reminded of her." He can appreciate that. "I grew up not far from here. Well, other end of the state. We passed it. Alliance."

Claire brushes her hair behind her ear so she can look at Jesse. "What happened to your parents?" she asks. He's never mentioned them.

"I was adopted," Jesse says. "Never knew my birth mother. My parents—" There's a moment where Jesse pauses, where Claire thinks he might break. "They don't remember adopting me. They've got a girl, now. She turned nine this year. They named her Jessica."

"Guess some things never go away," Claire says.

"S'pose."

Claire thinks about putting an arm out, a gesture of comfort, but Ben pulls into the parking lot, a bag of food on the passenger seat.

"Urgh," Claire groans. "I keep telling him not to do that."

"Good thing you love him, right?" Jesse says.

Claire smiles. "I s'pose."

.

He's supposed to wait until morning. That's when they agreed to hit the bunker.

Jesse's never been one for obeying instructions. So he's outside the bunker at two in the morning, picking the shit lock the Winchesters have chosen to secure it, with one of Claire's hair pins. It breaks in under a minute, which says a lot about the Winchester's assessment of (semi-)human burglars.

Namely, that they're not expecting to be robbed.

He steps in. He's worried for a moment, but nothing strikes him down. There's a quiet itch beneath his skin, the consequence of what are probably salt-laced walls, but he can live with it. All he needs to do is find some information on the Knights of Hell.

An alarm goes off when he's halfway down the bunker's stairs. Jesse isn't bothered about it. If they're right, there's no one to hear it.

"Dean, Sam?" A voice calls. "Will you turn the damn alarm off?"

Jesse blanches. No one should be in the bunker, yet someone clearly is. He halts just before a doorway.

He hears footsteps pad towards the entrance. "Come on guys, how am I supposed to get anything done with the noise?" Whoever it is is dark haired and carrying a book, and doesn't notice Jesse hiding round the door. He halts, ten steps into the room. "Dean?" he queries. "Sam?"

Jesse slips round the door. He can spend all night dodging this guy if he has to. There's a library ahead. That's a good place to start.

He runs a hand across the shelves. These books are old. A mountain of information about all and any supernatural creatures lies in their pages, if only he could care to look.

There are stone tablets on the table. He looks over at them. Whatever's on them, he can't read. It's not Enochian, or Sumerian, or any of the usual suspects. In fact, they make Jesse feel nauseous. Which intrigues him even more.

A gun clicks, far too close to his head for comfort.

"Who are you, and what are you doing here?"

Jesse raises his hands. There's enough fear in the boy's voice to make Jesse believe he doesn't want to shoot the gun. But that doesn't mean he won't.

"I'm just looking for some information," Jesse says. "On the Knights of Hell."

"How'd you get in?" The guy asks.

"Picked the lock," Jesse says. He lowers his hands.

Only to have Holy Water thrown in his face. The burn is minor, barely an irritation, but it does steam off him. The boy puts his finger back on the trigger, poised to shoot.

Not that a bullet will do much to Jesse, but it doesn't mean it won't hurt like a bitch. He grabs the guy's arm, pulls the gun out of his hand.

And gets a look into the guy's head. "You're a prophet," he gasps, dropping the gun.

"And you're a cambion." The guy - Kevin - returns.

"Fuck."

.

A prophet of the lord would be a good person to have on their side, if Jesse can win him over.

He's struggling to do so.

"So let me get this straight." Kevin is sitting on a chair in the library while Jesse stands. "You're the antichrist. Destroy the world, the whole shebang." Jesse nods. "And you've picked up a kid who may or may not be Dean's, and an ex-vessel of Castiel's, and now you've decided that you're going to reverse the spell that brought down Heaven." Jesse nods again. "Wow. You're going to piss someone off."

"Yeah, I'd worked that one out," Jesse says. "Look, I need info on Asmodeus."

"Another Knight of Hell?" Kevin moans, but gets up anyway, drifting towards a bookcase. "Don't tell me there's another one wandering the earth."

"Don't think so, but we need his blade," Jesse says. "And we can't find out where he went. Or who killed him."

"… I might have a lead on that."

Kevin doesn't sound happy about it. He's hidden behind a bookcase so Jesse can't see his face.

"That's good."

"Not really." Kevin drags out a box of files. "Look, I'm supposed to be trying to decrypt the Angel Tablet and working out what's happened to Heaven. But I've also been looking into how we take down Abaddon. Which means I've been trying to find out who killed the rest of the Knights."

"This is all sounding like good news."

"It was Cain. He seems to have done a bit of a switch, went on a rampage killing all the Knights. Apart from one, obviously." Kevin dumps the files on the table. They're old, but someone's been through them recently. "If you want to know what happened to Asmodeus's blade, he's the one to ask."

"Great." Jesse is feeling the exact opposite of great over the idea of contacting someone who is the father of murder, but hey. "How do we find him?"

Kevin rolls his eyes. "Has anyone told you you're insane?"

"I'm serious."

"I don't know," Kevin says. "I'm a prophet, I'm not God himself."

"Could you find out?"

"I dunno." Kevin throws his hands out, frustrated. "Maybe. Probably. That sort of info has to be somewhere. Or on the tablets. It'd turn up eventually."

"Eventually isn't going to cut it." There's a seriousness to Jesse's words that Kevin doesn't expect. "We need that blade to unlock Heaven. The veil is failing as we speak. How many more souls will it take before it crashes under its own weight?"

"The spell broke the veil?"

"Have you tried running a salt and burn recently? They don't work. That spell, it didn't just lock Heaven; it's doing a lot more damage. You have to help."

"Fine." Kevin pulls out a chair and sits, tablets in front of him.

"You want to stay here?" Kevin looks askance at Jesse. "Oh come on, it's got to be lonely. And this place is creepy."

"Which doesn't have anything to do with the fact that the walls are salt laced and you're half demon?" Kevin retorts.

The itch under Jesse's skin is becoming rather annoying, truth be told. "Let's go. Besides, don't you want to meet Ben and Claire?"

.

Claire does not take kindly to the arrival of Jesse and a prophet on her doorstep at six in the morning. Ben just rolls over, wraps the sheet further around him, and ignores them.

Claire grabs Jesse's arm, yanks him out the door. Kevin sets up shop at the small desk, quietly oblivious to everything else.

"Seriously!?" she yells.

"He's a prophet, Claire. We need him. He can help us find Cain, who killed Asmodeus, and therefore is the person most likely to know what happened to his blade."

She softens. Unclenches her hands. "We were supposed to break into the Bunker as a team, Jesse."

"Did you see the way Ben felt about that?" Jesse is serious. "I wasn't going to put that on him."

Claire ducks her head. She knows Jesse's right. It's just uncomfortable admitting it, because it means that she doesn't have all the answers, not in the way he does. "Thank you," she says.

"Not a problem." He means it. "Come on, let's get to work."

He opens the door to the motel room. Claire slips back inside. Jesse watches as she goes to Ben, golden hair falling out of the braid she wore to sleep, places her hand on his shoulder and shakes him gently. He wakes with a murmur, but Claire silences him with a gentle kiss.

It's an intrusion, him watching. But Claire has to know this moment isn't private. Jesse isn't even the only interloper in the room. It's difficult not to watch Ben, with sleep tousled hair and eyes that aren't still fully open, slide a hand reverent over Claire's arm.

There's only so long he can look before he has to tear his eyes away. Focus back to Kevin, who is focused already on his work, oblivious to the beauty behind him.

Jesse takes a stack of files. Sits down on the floor. Tries not to think about anything other than finding Cain. Because that's what matters now.

.

They spend the next eight days looking. Kevin gets a motel room for himself, next door, unable to cope with the teenage hormones. Or that's what he says.

He leaves Claire, Ben and Jesse with boxes of Men of Letters' files. They're interesting, but there's only so much paperwork they can cope with. Most days end with Ben and Jesse on the bed, motel tv on, mocking whatever awful shit they can find. And then Jesse vanishes, leaves the humans to sleep, continues the search just in case he does manage to turn the blade up without a visit to Cain.

Jesse turns up back from one of these hunts in the early hours of the morning to find Claire leaning against the bonnet of her car. She's on the phone to someone and it's not going well.

Ben's standing just outside their motel room door. That's enough to send alarm bells ringing. Ben is never up this early. "What's up?" Jesse drops onto the decking outside the motel.

"Castiel." Ben's barefoot, Jesse notes. Probably pulled from bed in a hurry. "He called her. I don't know the details, but it seems like everything's gone to shit in the Winchester camp."

"Like that's a surprise." Jesse tilts his head to the motel room next door. "How's Kevin?"

"I don't think he sleeps. He's still buried in those tablets. Don't know if he's found anything."

Ben goes silent. Jesse looks up. Claire's ended the phone call, slipped her phone back into her pocket. She takes a moment to shake herself off, runs her fingers through her hair and takes a deep breath before she walks back to them.

"Sam Winchester is missing," Claire says.

"Fantastic," Jesse retorts. "Why do we care?"

There's a spark in Claire's eyes that's dangerous. "He's currently possessed by an angel. One who lied about its identity. Who's on a mission to kill Kevin."

"Wow," Jesse breathes.

"Who's going to tell him that?" Ben eyes Kevin's door.

"Not me," Jesse replies.

.

Kevin is remarkably blase about the fact that he's heaven's latest target.

They suppose it's rather benign news compared to some of the things he's been through during his tenure as prophet and Winchester companion. But it does mean that Kevin no longer cares quite as much about finding Cain as he does saving his own hide. And that requires him to solve the Winchester's problems.

He hands Claire some notes. "It was on the tablet," he says. "I didn't have time to work out the details, but I think you guys should be able to." He chucks the tablets into his duffle. "Some of us have to make sure Dean doesn't tear the world apart looking for Sam."

The trio aren't as grieved about that as they should be. "We know," Ben mutters.

"Ready to hitch a ride on the demon express way?" Jesse asks. He puts a hand on Kevin's shoulder.

"I hope you guys succeed," Kevin says. "You're crazy for even trying, but I wish you the best." He braces himself with a nod to Jesse.

Jesse gives Ben and Claire a two fingered salute before he vanishes.

Ben peers over Claire's shoulder to get a closer look at the notes. "What the hell is Essence of Kraken?" None of it makes much sense to him.

"Jesse'll work it out," Claire says. "We're going to find Cain."

.

It doesn't take them as long as Claire fears to work out how the spell works. Jesse cracks it by nightfall, and then goes all over the world finding the ingredients they need. He finds that Kraken Essence in a warehouse in Belize that seems to be storing the world's supply of it.

The trio check out the motel, load their bags into the back of Claire's car, and leave Hastings behind. About twenty miles down the highway, Claire turns off and then takes a sharp right until they are in the middle of nowhere.

"Keep the engine running," she says to Ben. "We might need to get out of here pronto."

Ben slides into the driver's seat.

Jesse leaves the back door of the car open. He's got a map in his hands, and a bottle with the spell already mixed inside. Claire takes the corners of the map, lies it flat on the ground ten feet from the car.

They douse the map with the spell, soaking the paper from California to Maine. Jesse ignites the map with a snap of his fingers.

A single scrap is left behind.

"Looks like we're heading to Missouri." Claire picks up the remnant of the map. "So, seven hours to plan our attack."

"Any thoughts on how we do that?"

Claire flicks her eyes to the car.

"Ben?" he queries.

"We've got an angel blade in the trunk." Claire considers her next words carefully. "Ben's… The angels say Sam and Dean are direct descendants of the line of Cain."

"It's a risky card to play," Jesse says. "We don't even know if Ben is Dean's."

"I know." Claire flicks her hair over her shoulder. "You're a child of hell. Can't you do something?"

Jesse stares at the car. Ben's waiting patiently, hands on the steering wheel. "I'm going to try."

.

It's dusk when Claire pulls the car up to what looks like an abandoned farm house. The way Jesse quakes beside her tells her it's not abandoned. "We're in the right place," he says. "There's someone with serious power in that house."

Jesse's never encountered anything like it. Never encountered anyone who might have more power than he does; never found someone who's used that power.

"Are you sure we need to do this?" Ben reaches forward from the backseat to place a hand on Jesse's shoulder. It helps. A little.

"We need that blade, right?" Claire says, even as she retains a white-knuckled grip on the steering wheel.

"We do." Jesse nods. He opens the passenger door. On solid ground, he can feel the way the power has leached into the earth. The place looks ordinary. There are some beehives behind the house. The landscape is open as far as the eye can see, except a scattering of trees.

Claire appears beside him, gripping an angel blade. Delicate fingers entwine themselves with his. On his other side, Ben grasps his hand.

"Together," Ben says.

It's not a long walk up to the house, but Jesse stumbles part way through. He's saved by Ben's firm clasp of his hand, and finds himself pulled up, his arm looped around Ben for support. "Are you alright?" Claire asks.

"No." Jesse's resting most of his weight on Ben. It's the only way he's staying upright. "There's some major mojo here." He tries to take a step forward, using Ben as a crutch, but his legs still crumple beneath him. He can't go any further.

"Cain!"

Claire yells it at the top of her voice, causing Ben to wince. Jesse buries his head in Ben's shoulder.

"What did you do that for?" Ben hisses.

"Jesse can't walk. I'm not leaving him out here." Claire stands her ground. "We might as well have Cain come to us."

"She's right," Jesse murmurs, his breath hot against Ben's neck. "Let's count ourselves lucky that she didn't decide to broadcast it over angel radio."

There isn't time to argue the point. There's a man coming out of the house. He's not what they expect; not that they really had any expectations. He double takes at the trio of teenagers on his lawn. They must look a sight. Jesse collapsed and clinging onto Ben, who is wearing a near constant frown, and then Claire, angel blade in hand like it could possibly do anything against him.

"You're going to need a weapon far stronger than that to harm me, little lady," Cain says. "Believe me, I've tried. And don't count on your Cambion friend coming to your rescue either. As I'm sure you can see, he's quite indisposed."

Jesse scowls. It's not very effective. He's doubled up in pain, unable to support his own weight. He can't even focus on the way Ben's hands are twisted in his shirt.

Claire drops the angel blade back to her side.

"Better." Cain doesn't smile. "You mind telling me why I have two teenagers and a half demon on my front lawn, and how you got here?"

"Car," Jesse spits. Cain does not look impressed.

"There's a spell," Claire says. "Part of the Word of God. It led us here." She steels herself. "We need to find the blade of Asmodeus. You were the last one to see him alive."

Cain's face is unreadable. Jesse would bet good money that he wasn't expecting her to ask that question.

"You mean I killed him." Claire stands her ground against Cain. "But what on earth do you want that old thing for?"

"I don't know how much you know about current events, but we've got a bit of a crisis going on," Ben says. "Angels running amok—"

"Abaddon," Jesse coughs.

"We need Asmodeus's blade to undo the spell that keeps the gates of heaven locked. So we can fix the veil," Claire finishes.

Cain stares at them for a good thirty seconds. And then Jesse feels a weight lifting from his chest. Cain's mouth twitches into what could be a smile. "Guess you better come in for tea, then."

.

It takes a while for the reality of what is happening to really sink in. That they are sitting across from the father of murder, sipping tea from china cups. The three of them are nestled together. Ben and Claire sandwiched on either side of Jesse.

"You three are idiots."

Jesse hasn't been paying a lot of attention to what's going on, but Cain's voice seems almost - and Jesse's sure he's got to be imagining it - fond.

"Will you give us the blade?"

Claire has crossed arms. She's not deviating from what she wants. This seems, to her, too much like a trap to lull them into a false sense of security.

"Why not?" Cain must enjoy toying with them. "That Blade is useless to pretty much everyone. No one can wield it except Asmodeus and the descendants of Tobias. I think it'll work for your little plan, so I can't see any danger in it."

"You're just going to hand it over?" Jesse is incredulous, the words spilling out of his mouth before he can really stop them. "For nothing in return, no ridiculous hoops for us to jump through?"

"You'll have to find it first." Cain is up, looking through a dresser. "I buried it. Thought it the most sensible thing to do at the time."

"I thought you said it was of no use to anyone," Claire says.

He turns to her, an old map in hand. "That doesn't mean there aren't those who would like to wield the Blade of Asmodeus. To take up his mantle. The world doesn't need that."

He hands Ben the map. "You'll find a box. Sealed. There will be protections on the box. Your companions have a little too much other in them. It would be best if you opened it. This will unlock it." Cain indicates a bottle, old glass that's filled with a dark oil.

"Thank you," Ben says hesitantly, tucking the bottle into his pocket.

Cain gathers their cups back onto the tray. "You should be going now."

The trio stand up. Ben still clutches the map in his hands, even as he edges his feet around the coffee table and towards the door. Jesse follows with an eager hand on Ben's arm.

Claire hesitates. "Cain—" she starts, and it's the first time she's sounded nervous during the entire conversation. "You should know how bad it is out there. The Winchesters are currently more worried about the angels but it won't be long before they turn their attentions to Abaddon. There's a lot of talk about the First Blade going round. They will come to call on you." She pauses. "It would be best for everyone if you weren't found."

"You don't want to see Abaddon defeated?" Cain asks, with a wry smile.

"I don't think we want the First Blade out in the world," she says.

Cain nods. "I agree." Claire fixes him with a look, that says she wants more from him than that. "I'll be long gone before anyone finds me."

"Good."

And with that they leave.

When they slip into the car and look back, there is no longer a house; just an empty space where it was. Claire, key in ignition, turns to Ben. "Directions?" she asks.

Jesse looks at the map over Ben's shoulder. It's faded with time, and Ben's having difficulty reading it. "Montana," Jesse says, before laying his head on Ben's shoulder. It's gonna be a long drive.

.

It takes them three days to reach Montana. With the icy roads, it doesn't take long for the car to be abandoned in the lot of a crummy motel. Ben and Claire put on every jumper they own, and Jesse teleports them up to the mountains.

Cain's map is not clear about the exact location of the blade. The terrain is treacherous in December. Ben shivers and almost falls thirty feet down into a cavern. After that, they decide that they won't lose each other - Jesse takes both their hands, uses his demonic powers to pour heat into their veins. They search slower like this, but it's safer.

Eventually, Jesse feels the tug of demonic power he's been looking for for months now. He sees stones, marked with ancient runes; a site that is heavily fortified against magic of all kinds. It makes him queasy. Cain was right about this being on Ben.

"Be back in a moment." Jesse vanishes and Claire pulls Ben into her side, feeling the cold now that Jesse is no longer sending heat through them. The sky is turning magenta. Night is coming on fast, and then it'll be worse. "Here." With a touch of his hands to their shoulders, the cold is abated.

He's got a shovel in his hands. Ben grasps the handle, but Jesse doesn't let it go. "I can do this," he says.

"No you can't." Ben wrestles the shovel off him. "You heard what Cain said. You can feel it right now; I can see it. This place is dangerous to you. It's not to me."

Ben walks past the defences without flinching and begins to dig. Claire grabs Jesse's arm, fits her body against his.

There's a certain attractiveness to the way Ben looks, shovelling the dirt, but it's marred by the cold, by the way that Jesse's power is being seeped out of him. It's not long before Ben has uncovered a box made of polished wood.

He brings it to them. Claire takes it, while Ben fishes the oil that Cain gave him out his pocket. He opens it and takes a sniff. It doesn't smell of much.

"How are you doing that?" Jesse is wincing. "That stuff's toxic, mate."

"Not to me," Ben says. Claire shakes her head too, hands the box back to Ben, and winds her arm down Jesse's to slide her fingers into his. Ben runs the oil over the case. It falls apart where the oil touches, revealing a tarnished iron blade. There's nothing special about it; nothing to indicate it once belonged to a Knight of Hell.

Ben touches it. He knows he shouldn't, but he can't resist running a finger over the hilt. It sparks to life, rust falling until it shines, the dark gleam of a weapon of hell.

"What?"

It's Jesse who voices the surprise, but it's just as clear on Claire's face.

Ben's hand wraps around the handle. He lifts the blade out its casing, lets the box clatter to the ground. He is transfixed, completely focused on what is in front of him. Everything goes silent.

He lifts his eyes from the blade. They're black. Not the shiny black of demon's eyes, no, this is like a veil of dusk and smoke that has been drawn in.

"Ben," Claire cries, running forward. She tries to grab the knife. It burns to the touch and Ben doesn't respond. She grabs his face, making him look at her as she once again begs. "Ben."

"Come on Ben," Jesse says, voice low. He's only a step behind Claire, taking the hand that isn't wrapped around the dagger. Still no response. Claire strokes a thumb over Ben's cheek, leans her head close, kisses him. "Claire." Jesse places his other hand on her shoulder. "We need to be smart about this."

"What do you suggest?" There's a shake in her voice.

"You go for the blade. Get it out of his hand, back in the box. I'll distract him." Claire does as he asks, moves aside. "Just… Don't be mad at how I do it." Jesse steps forward, and Claire wonders what he's about to do, but then he slides his hand around Ben's neck and pulls him in and kisses him.

Kissing Ben is nothing like Jesse thought. And he's thought about it, on those long nights where he's been searching across the world for the blade Ben now holds in his hand. His eyes are closed; he can't tell if Claire has wrestled the blade out of Ben's hand, just concentrates on his hand teasing at Ben's hairline, the feel of Ben's lips, every ounce of power flowing through their bodies.

It works. It must work, because Ben is kissing back, for an all too brief moment before Jesse steps back, separating himself completely. Claire has the box, blade safely back inside.

Ben's eyes are clear. Claire stands up, draws him in for a hug, which he returns, clasping at her, burying his head in her shoulder. "Get us out of here, Jesse."

He heeds her words, picking up the case, throwing it under his arm and then places his hands on their shoulders.

They are gone in seconds.

.

Claire rents them the standard double room at the shitty motel where they left the car. She puts Ben to bed. Whatever happened up on the mountain has left him exhausted.

Jesse leaves them be. He hasn't said anything, to either of them, since he got them off the mountain. Claire's preoccupied with looking after Ben, and Ben's so out of it he can't even walk straight, let alone demand answers. But once Ben is comfortable, and asleep? There are questions Jesse's sure Claire will ask.

She closes the motel door. Quietly, so not to wake Ben. Her face is somber.

"You come to tell me to leave?" Jesse asks. "I wouldn't blame you. I'm not a good person. I can stick around to finish the spell, return the angels to heaven if you want, but afterwards I'll be gone." Definitively, he thinks, there is no longer any way he is coming out of this alive.

"Jesse." Claire steps forward, hesitant.

"I kissed Ben. Your boyfriend. Without his consent, without your consent, I just did it. You should hate me. Both of you."

"Jesse." Her voice is firm and she clasps his hands in hers. "I'm not mad."

"You're not?"

"You made a decision. It worked. He's safe." She smiles, with a glance back to the motel room. "Besides, don't think I don't see the way you look at him."

Jesse freezes. He never meant to get caught, never meant for that kiss to mean more than it did. He wonders if Claire's caught the way he looks at her, too.

"It's alright." Claire's still smiling, which has to be a good thing. "He looks at you the same way, whenever he thinks you and I aren't looking."

"Claire—" Jesse doesn't know what to say. Ben had kissed him back, yes, for a brief moment before he knew what was happening, before he knew it was Jesse and not Claire. That doesn't mean anything. "I'd never take him from you."

"I know." She runs a thumb over the back of his hand. Jesse had forgotten she was even holding them. "Maybe I didn't at the start. I didn't like you for a whole bunch of reasons and jealousy was probably in there. But I know you. You wouldn't hurt him. And you won't hurt me."

She brushes his hair out of his eyes, draws her hand round, brushes his cheek. Her fingertips hang for just a moment too long on his jawline.

"I'm not as good of a man as you think Claire."

"That doesn't matter," she says. "You're good enough. That's all that matters."

He thinks she might kiss him, outside that motel room. She doesn't. It doesn't make the moment any less charged, any less powerful. Jesse gets caught up in blue eyes and golden hair and sparks of grace and doesn't notice when she tugs his hand. "Come to bed," she says, and he hears that.

He's not in a mood to put up a fight, so he lets himself be led by Claire into the motel room. Ben is already asleep on one side of the bed; there are duffles dumped in a corner, the box that contains Asmodeus's blade safely placed on a dresser.

Claire's stripped by the time Jesse's worked out what's happening. She flicks open his belt with a well practised ease, and Jesse has to think very hard about anything other than Claire being in front of him in only a thin vest top and her underwear. She pulls off his jacket, drapes it over a chair and tugs him to the bed.

Jesse slides underneath the sheets, leaving Claire to switch off the light. Ben mumbles and turns over and curls an arm round Jesse's stomach. It's nice. Jesse feels safe here. And when Claire crawls into the bed it doesn't feel strange, it just feels like she belongs there too, head nestled in the crook of Jesse's neck.

The world could end tonight, and none of them would notice.

.

Jesse wakes. There's dawn light streaming in the windows, but that's not what makes him open his eyes. Ben and Claire are whispering on the edge of the bed, soft noises and what Jesse expects is a discussion about exactly what happened yesterday. Ben looks uncomfortable, but Claire is soothing, wrapping arms around him.

"Jesse." Claire's noticed he's awake, and gives him a gentle smile.

Jesse rubs his eyes. "Morning guys," he manages to say through a yawn.

"Morning, Jesse." It's difficult to read Ben's face, but he's not angry. Jesse wonders how much about the events of yesterday he remembers, how much Claire might have told him.

Claire steps off the bed. She puts on one of Ben's shirts, slips into a pair of jeans. Checking her phone, she finds half a dozen messages on it. "Sorry guys, I need to answer some of these." She slips out the door without another word.

Jesse pushes the sheets down the bed, contemplates getting up and finds his entire will to get up lacking. He collapses back onto the bed. Ben crawls up alongside him.

"Are you alright?"

"I think so." Jesse can feel Ben's weight beside him. "I don't really know what happened. But I feel fine."

"That's good." It's difficult to judge from Ben's face, when Jesse turns to look at him, whether he is fine or not. But Claire wouldn't have left him if she didn't think he'd be alright. "Claire have any theories about why it happened?"

"Something about what Cain said. The Blade being useless to everyone but the descendants of Tobias. She thinks I must be of that line."

"Makes sense." Not that they'll ever know for certain. "It was scary, Ben. Watching you lose control, the black filling your eyes. It was terrifying."

Ben clasps Jesse's hand, shuffles a couple of inches closer. Close enough that their noses brush and their breaths mingle and Jesse can't help but think of yesterday and kissing Ben. But he can't.

"I'm sorry." Ben seems genuinely apologetic. "Claire said the same thing. She said you pulled me out of it."

"Yeah." Jesse ducks his head.

"Thanks," Ben says. Jesse looks up, and Ben is smiling genuinely. There is no repulsion in his face, and despite Claire's assurances last night Jesse wasn't convinced that was the case. He's so relieved, that Ben's alive, that he doesn't hate him, that he throws himself forward and wraps himself around Ben.

Ben laughs. He clasps his hands in the back of Jesse's shirt just as Jesse clutches as close as he can get at Ben, buries his face in Ben's neck, like he'll somehow manage to piece his fractured self back together in Ben's arms.

"Hey." Ben's still smiling, a hand twisted in the strands of Jesse's hair. "It's okay Jesse, I'm here, I'm fine." Jesse's breath is hot on Ben's neck, sharp breaths that are almost hyperventilation. "Jesse, everything's okay."

"I know," Jesse chokes out, but he doesn't release his grip.

Neither of them notice when Claire slips back into the room. She doesn't feel like interrupting their love fest on the bed, just snaps a picture on her phone for future blackmail purposes.

Eventually she has to clear her throat. Ben looks up, with a querying glance. He doesn't take his hands off Jesse.

"That was the Winchesters," Claire says, with a heavy tone. "They don't want us to open Heaven."

That makes Ben and Jesse look up at her. "What—" Jesse sputters.

"Yeah." It hadn't been the best of conversations. "So we should probably get on it, pronto."

.

Jesse fobs Ben and Claire off with some story about having to collect some things for the spell. He doesn’t think either of them believe him, but they can’t do anything about it.

It’s true, to an extent. He’s the last part of the spell, and he needs to work out exactly how that’s going to work. If he even can manage to sacrifice himself to the spell. What it will take; his powers, or his entire life.

He’s lying to himself if he thinks it will seriously be anything other than the latter. This spell will be the death of him, and he’ll be lucky if it’s not the death of Ben and Claire as well. And he can’t have that on his hands.

He’s in love with them. Both of them. He can admit it to himself now. But it will never mean anything, no matter what Claire says about Ben looking at him.

It doesn’t make a difference. The veil is getting worse. Jesse can feel it, which is not a good sign. He’s not tuned into this world the way others are, but even he knows that the universe is disintegrating around them. Souls are screaming out and yet still no one hears them.

Jesse finds himself at the top of a mountain. All alone. He screams, because it’s not fair. He’s going to lose everything. It’s what a child of hell deserves, according to every piece of scripture he can find. He will either devour the world or be devoured by it, and he’s sworn that he won’t let the first one happen. So the latter has caught up to him.

He doesn’t deserve this. He never asked for this power, never wanted it.

But he’s the only one who can.

So he goes back. Stands over Ben and Claire as they sleep, at least until Claire wakes up and pulls him into the bed beside her, makes him close his eyes and stop thinking about it. It works.

.

They make a plan that morning, lying in the bed. They'll use the Blade of Asmodeus to cut a back door into heaven. Once they're up there, Jesse will extract the last remaining bit of Cas's grace from Claire, infuse it into the Blade, and then use his own power to force the gates back open. All they have to do is avoid Metatron, and it'll go off without a hitch.

Jesse neglects to mention what it'll do to him. He has faith that Claire will be able to deal with it. Once she stops being furious with him.

The pack the weapons. The angel blade is the only one they have that will be of any use to them, but it doesn't mean that they want to go up there without anything else. Jesse watches them. Thinks about his life, his practically immortal life, and how he's planning on ending it before he turns twenty.

There's a lake not too far from where they are, and it's there they choose to make their stand. It's deserted at this time of year. Claire drives them up there, one last trip in that piece of shit car that somehow is still going. Jesse drags his hand along the bonnet as they walk away from it. He'll miss it.

It's twenty minutes to sunset. There's a reason twilight has such importance among the supernatural, and it's because everything is a little stronger then. The three of them aren't above taking any advantage they can get.

Claire kisses Ben on the shoreline. Jesse stares. He's thankful, in a way, that he hasn't managed to wreck what lies between them. He tries to commit to memory the way Ben smiles at her, threads his fingers through her golden strands of hair, before it all fades away. They look happy, foreheads pressed together as Claire kisses him again. "For luck," Jesse hears Claire whisper.

They spend a couple of moments just standing there, while Jesse looks away. "Are you ready?" he asks them when they come back to him. It's not quite time yet, but there's no harm in being prepared.

"One more thing," Ben says, and he looks to Claire. She nods, but Jesse just looks confused. Ben steps into Jesse's space, reaches out a hand to cup his cheek and kisses him. The slide of wet lips against his shocks Jesse. He's not expecting it; it takes a moment for his eyes to flutter closed and to kiss back, to clutch hands in Ben's shirt. Jesse kisses Ben like he's his salvation, nipping at his bottom lip and gets a breathy gasp in response.

They separate only when Ben needs to come up for air. Jesse takes a moment before he opens his eyes, afraid of what he might see. But Claire is smiling as she looks at both of them. He turns back to Ben, with a raised eyebrow. "You're the one who needs luck, Jesse," is all Ben says.

But that wasn't just a kiss for good luck. Jesse's not that naive. "Wait—" Jesse says, because he saw Ben just kiss Claire. "You aren't mad?" He asks this to Claire.

"You're an idiot," Claire says. And then she kisses him, hot and wet and slick, hands fisted in the front of his shirt. It's different from Ben, but just as good, especially when he catches a hand in Claire's golden hair. "You never stopped to think you could have us both?"

"It seemed ridiculous." Jesse can't quite manage to breathe. His head is spinning.

"You can." Ben's grinning like an idiot, and Jesse can't believe how beautiful he is.

"We can sort out the particulars later," Claire says. "But we're two minutes from sunset, and you've got a spell to cast."

All Jesse wants to do is replay the last five minutes forever. But he can't. He has to concentrate. He pulls on the gloves that Claire reckons will protect him. Ben hands him the Blade of Asmodeus, and Jesse summons the ice fire of power that lies deep in him. As the sun dips below the horizon line, Jesse cuts a doorway into the air.

It shimmers for a moment before stabilising. Claire and Ben grip each of his arms, and the three of them step through to Heaven.

.

They assume Claire's memories will be able to guide them through Heaven, to the gates.

It becomes clear that Heaven has undergone some major structural changes since Claire got her info dump six years ago. She doesn't recognise anything. Heaven has been decimated.

They crawl through abandoned personal heavens, looking at the scars, of grace that is bleeding into the universe. They do not encounter another soul. That's probably a good thing.

They find a river. At first it is just a trickling current, but they follow it down, through Heaven. The devastation becomes less apparent.

Until they come to the gates. The river stops, just drops off. There are actual gates; iron wrought, heavy, decorative. They'd be beautiful, gleaming, a fit entrance for Heaven if it wasn't for the sickening black substance that is eating them. It's everywhere, beneath their feet, permeating the foundations. It's little wonder that the veil is falling to pieces.

Jesse places a hand as close to the gates as he can. The substance has spread vast; cracks spider-webbing across the foundation of Heaven, down into the veil and into the very fabric of reality. How Metatron hasn't noticed the world is only months away from collapsing into dust is beyond Jesse. Then again, maybe he doesn't care.

Jesse turns around. His fists are clenched. It's difficult not to be angry in the face of such wanton destruction. His eyes go dark; hands sparking with power and thinking that if he could only just tear down Heaven, everything would be better.

"Jesse." Claire is there, a hand at his shoulder and not at all concerned that one wrong touch could kill her. He comes out of it. It isn't his place to destroy Heaven, but standing here it's a delight, a rush to know he could. "Let's do it."

He nods. Plunging his hands into the thick black tar, he sends the first fledgling trembles of power through the system, dark magic weaving into the cracks. Heaven cries at the invasion of demonic power, but Jesse will not stand for such resistance.

His hands are clean when he withdraws them, to take Claire's. Her hands are still delicate, despite all that time on the run, and Cas's grace is singing through her, surging in every cell of her body. It knows it is home. And Heaven knows that this is the cause, this is what has made it suffer in agony, and it will tear Claire apart to get at it, in an attempt to rectify the wrongs done. Her skin is glowing as Jesse pulls the grace from her.

Ben has the blade. The power of Heaven works in their favour here; it won't let Ben fall to the demonic influence. He gives it to Jesse, a ritual handover they hope will strengthen the magic.

The grace is blue white at Jesse's fingertips. It sparks violently when he touches the Blade, at the conflict of angelic and demonic power. He can feel the rush, feel the atoms of iron charge with the grace. This blade could do anything now; even kill a Knight of Hell.

That's not its purpose though.

Jesse stabs the blade down. Straight in the centre of the gate, through layers of darkness, until it hits. Grace spills, flowing through every crevice, every crack it can find, cleansing with a fire of bright white light. Streaks make their way into Jesse. He is not natural here. Bright lighting strikes of white appear on his skin; Jesse can feel them eating at his core.

"Jesse—!" Ben screams it, in a moment of realisation. Claire has already caught him.

"Go." Jesse keeps his voice from wavering. "You two have to go."

Neither of them move. "Not without you," Ben says.

"Sorry, Ben." It's getting difficult to talk, with grace pouring in Jesse's veins. It burns. "No can do. I'm not getting out of this. It was always a one way trip for me."

"You bastard," Claire mutters. Her tone is angry but her eyes aren't. They're wet. Threatening tears.

"No, no, Jesse—" Ben tears forward, but Claire's grip holds true.

"Get him out of here, Claire." Jesse turns away from him; watching them is too difficult. "This place is going to burn. You can't go down with it." They still haven't gone. "Claire!" Jesse yells. The grace sparks, lightning strikes across the gates. "Now. Please."

"I love you." Ben's voice is weak, but Jesse still hears it. But they are gone, then, Claire finally tugging Ben away from the carnage.

A tear slips down Jesse's face. Every part of his body is being consumed, but he still grips the Blade. It won't be long before he won't even be able to do that. The grace is shredding his cells, using every piece of his power to help repair the damage.

The spell is racing, battling to open the cracks of heaven. Jesse is almost spent, and it still might not be enough. But there's someone else in Heaven, someone else with the power needed to fix the vast damage. "Come on," Jesse thinks, guiding the spell. "That's the guy who did this to you. Use him."

Jesse lives just long enough to see the tendrils of grace flood Metatron's office before the spell consumes him completely.

.

The sky is lit with tendrils of white, like a thousand lightning bolts crashing down at once only there is no thunder. Just illumination, light pouring through the cracks of the world.

Then there are the columns of light, gone in a blink of an eye. There are those who say their loved ones vanished; those who say they saw people taken from existence. Religious cults take it up, calling it a second warning for the end of days, for people who had not heeded the first. Ultimately, there is no proof. Mongerings of apocalyptic doom are too common these days for any but the devout to take notice.

On the shore of the lake, at the epicentre of the light, a boy and a girl weep.

They have managed exactly what they set out to do, but they cannot bring themselves to be glad about it.


	4. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is it~ The playlist for the epilogue is [here.](http://8tracks.com/drinkupthesunrise/the-fate-of-all) I'll see you all on the other side; I hope you enjoy.

Ben and Claire do not move from the shore that night. Neither do they sleep. Ben cries, ugly wracking tears that roll down his face as Claire curses Jesse's name. As the hours go on, Ben turns to sobbing gently, and Claire wraps herself around him, hating that she cannot protect him from this.

The sun dawns on the horizon line. A new day, one where heaven's gates are open, the veil is fixed, and the angels returned to their rightful home. And Jesse is dead.

Claire pulls Ben to his feet. She lets him rest against her, one of her hands in his hair, the other with fingers laced in his, and lets him mourn a moment longer.

Their journey is over.

It's time to go home.

.

The car feels empty now, with just the two of them. The first town they reach, they pull over. Ben goes to grab food, while Claire finds a payphone and dials a number she hasn't used in months.

It rings a handful of times before Claire is greeted with "Hello?"

She tries not to sob. "Hey mom, it's me." And then a deep breath. "We're coming home."

Ben returns, with a bag of food he'd bought on autopilot, to find Claire slumped against the payphone box, cradling the phone in her hands. She's nodding, mutters something, then passes the phone to Ben.

He's too out of it to respond properly to anything his mother says. But it's a relief to hear her voice, a comfort when he thought there would be none. The thought of seeing her soon is enough to calm him, enough to help Claire plan the route.

They take the back roads of Montana, across the Canadian border, and up to a city called Regina which Amelia and Lisa call home.

The town is ordinary. They have no expectations, but it's a relief. They are done with the supernatural, with the extraordinary; all it has ever done is break their hearts. Lisa and Amelia live on the outskirts of the city, in a calm neighbourhood where little stands out. They park the car outside an apartment block, grab their bags from the trunk, and head up the stairs.

It's Amelia who opens the door, only moments after they ring the bell. Claire falls straight into her mother's embrace without letting go of Ben's hand. And then Lisa is there, wrapping Ben in her arms like he is a babe again and everything is fine, they are home.

.

There are tears at the dinner table that night. Amelia and Lisa wanting the story of their adventures, and Ben and Claire not knowing what to tell them.

They are let go once they have a decent meal in them. And then collapse into bed.

It takes them a long time to get out of it.

Even discounting their grief, they have spent the past seven months fuelled by adrenaline and vengeance. Now that is gone, neither of them knows what to do. They talk of what happened only sparsely. They don't even know where to begin with an explanation, to start the process of comprehending what was going on.

It frustrates Amelia and Lisa. They knew their children would come back different, only this is more than they expected. Ben and Claire are grieving, that much is clear, but they don't know what for. It's obvious that they are together, now; it was obvious even before they went away. So it cannot be that. But, as their children are private in whatever happened, Amelia and Lisa carry on not knowing.

They get better. Start moving about, talking. Leaving the apartment, even just to nip to the convenience store. And Amelia and Lisa start to see. The way that even with Claire's hand in his, Ben still reaches for another hand. Claire flicking a look over her shoulder as she laughs at something Ben says, expecting another presence.

It's not a what their children are mourning. It's a who.

.

"Why'd he do it?" Ben asks one day. Claire looks up at him. "He knew he'd be consumed in the spell, why'd he still do it?"

"Because he had to." Claire is remarkably calm about it. She'd been angry with Jesse for a long time, but she's starting to understand. "He had to. Asmodeus's blade and the grace… they weren't enough. There was something else to that spell."

Ben comes to sit by her side. Claire tangles her fingers with his. "I get that. The spell needed to be cast. I just—" He chokes. A tear rolls down his cheek, and Claire brushes it away. "I never thought he'd be so eager to throw his life away."

Claire settles her fingers in the short curls at the base of Ben's neck. "He wasn't. He didn't want to leave us. He just had to. He saved a lot of people. He saved us." It's of little comfort though. "We didn't know him well, Ben. Not really. But I think he was scared of what he might do. He had a lot of power, and it was dangerous. He'd rather give his life in the service of something worthy."

"It still hurts." Ben leans into Claire. "I loved him." He presses into the crook of her neck. "Right? I didn't just imagine it. I loved him."

"I know." Claire wraps her arms around him, pulls him close, and tries desperately to make up for the lack of a third person in their bed. She never will.

.

Slowly, they start putting their lives back together.

They stay in Regina. It's not that Amelia and Lisa have much in the way of roots here, but they don't have anywhere better to go. This will be home until they decide where to go next.

It won't be in their beat up little car. The thing is done for. The mechanic says it's a wonder that it's gone anywhere in the last six months. Claire and Ben lean over the car and utter a silent prayer of thanks for Jesse, who must have been keeping the car running. So it goes off to the scrap yard.

They fill their days studying. Amelia still hasn't given up her hopes that her little girl will go to College, and leaves brochures lying around. Claire focuses most of her efforts on trying to make sure Ben is up to speed, that he can go back to High School as a senior, instead of repeating a year. He's bright; it should be manageable.

With the rest of her time, Claire begins trying to catalogue everything they learnt. Starts to think about which parts of the biblical myth are actually relevant in this day and age, when they are post Revelations.

It's not like she wants their rag tag cover story to come true. But there's a lot on their blog that people have said was useful. And there's no harm in that. There's a lot more Claire knows that could help people.

So she does.

.

In August there is a woman at their door, red-headed, bright and vivacious, who bursts in with a bag full of things. It's probably a good thing that Amelia and Lisa are at work that day, so they don't see their children disarm the woman, knock her to the ground, Claire holding a knife to her throat while Ben picks up the shotgun.

"Who are you?" Claire says. The woman has walked across the devil's trap under the front map without any problems, but that doesn't mean she isn't dangerous. And she seems to know who they are.

"Charlie Bradbury!" The woman has her hands up. "I'm friends with the Winchesters. Woman of Letters. You guys know me, I've been in Oz the past year, that's why I stopped answering your emails."

"We never knew a Charlie Bradbury." Ben cocks the gun.

"Susan. Susan Asimov," she says, and Claire releases her.

That name they do recognise. "Why didn't you start with that?" Claire asks.

"I've been in Oz the past year, I've got a bit muddled up." Charlie rises to her feet, dusts herself off. "Look, I heard what happened. Or what we've all managed to piece together, anyway. You guys forced the gates of Heaven back open." She looks around. "Speaking of which, where's your third partner in crime?"

"Jesse died opening the gates." Claire can't keep the harsh quality out of her voice.

"Oh god—" Charlie looks genuinely shocked, distressed about the death of a boy she'd never met. "I'm sorry. We didn't know."

"He gave his life for our safety." Ben mutters the words, quiet and bitter. "The least you could do is notice."

"I'll make sure everyone knows." Charlie seems sincere about that. She goes and collects the bag that she'd brought, that had been dropped in the scuffle. "This is for you two. Fresh passports, documentation, some money I liberated from the Men of Letters bunker."

They take a look. There's a good couple of bricks of hundred dollar bills. "There's more if you need it," Charlie says. "You guys deserve it. The angels went back to Heaven, said we'd all have been gonners within too long."

She retreats. Stops at the door. "There's my number in there. You two need anything, you call. College acceptances, whatever. I make a sweet agony aunt."

"Do the Winchesters know where we are?" Claire asks.

"No," Charlie says. "I figured after everything, and your rather rocky relationship with the pair of them, it would be best for them not to know."

"Thank you."

And with that, Charlie leaves them.

.

The autumn leaves start falling and Claire and Ben think that just maybe, they could move on from their grief. Ben's one month into his senior year at the local high school and Claire's starting to think about what the hell she's going to do with the rest of her life. Everything's surprisingly normal.

Then the doorbell rings.

"I'll get it," Ben volunteers. Barring Charlie's surprise visit a couple of months ago, they don't get many visitors. Usually it's just the old woman across the hall, needing help with something or other. Ben can be relied upon to do whatever task she needs and then spend the next half an hour over there having cake.

Five minutes later, though, and they haven't heard old Mrs. Wallace or Ben's yell of I'll be back in a bit and they're all a little concerned. Claire slides off her stool, tells her mother "I'll see what he's got up to."

She's expecting to see Ben, out in the hallway between apartments, having got caught up carrying groceries or something. That isn't what she finds.

Her breath won't come back to her. She can't believe what she's seeing. That can't be— It isn't who she thinks it is, who she wants it to be.

But it must. Because she gets her breathing back under control and blinks her eyes and he's still there. Jesse. Standing in their doorway, with messy hair and his ridiculous face and that stupid smile. He's alive.

Ben has his arms wrapped tight around Jesse's torso, head buried in a shoulder, tears that are flowing out of relief and happiness. "Hey Claire," Jesse says, and oh how she's missed that voice, blasted australian accent and all. It takes not a second for her to be there, to hold his face, draw him in. She kisses him not once, not twice, but three times, all the while trying to hold back her own tears.

He smiles at her. Grins, clearly just as happy to be back with them as they are to have him back. Claire lets her hands settle in the back of his shirt, navigating her way round Ben's tight hold. She kisses Jesse again, slower this time, trying to memorise how he feels against her, how having the weight of another person at her side changes things.

They don't know how long it is until they manage to shake themselves from each others' sides and go back. The food is being kept warm in the oven, and an extra place set out. Ben and Claire thank heavens they have mothers who understand.

"This is Jesse," Ben says, as he sits back down. Amelia and Lisa, to their credit, both have straight faces.

Holding out a hand, Jesse says, "It's nice to meet you." His politeness is tempered by the wicked smile on his face.

Lisa laughs it off, shaking the proffered hand. "Glad to meet you at last," she says. Ben and Claire have never mentioned his name, but it's clear. This is their lost piece. "I hope you're hungry."

.

It's a week before Claire asks him. "How?"

The three of them are in bed together. Claire's lying with her head on Jesse's bare chest. On the other side of him, Ben is curled tight against his side. He hasn't often let go of Jesse since he came back. Claire gets it.

"How what?" Jesse asks back. Claire can feel the vibrations of his chest beneath her as he talks. He's got a hand in her hair, toying with long golden strands.

"You know what," Claire says. "How'd you get back here? How did you survive the spell?"

"I didn't." Jesse is nonchalant. "I felt it tear me apart. I was dead, and I'd just about made my peace with that until you two decided you'd love me too." Ben presses upward, nuzzling his nose against Jesse's collarbone, planting a gentle kiss. Jesse responds by threading fingers through Ben's hair and keeping him close. "That changed things, I think. I don't know how, but I was put back together. My atoms collected, my power restored." He flexes his fingers. "It's different now, though. It's not the same."

"Still," Claire says. "Were you put together because of your own power, or did someone else do it?"

"Who has that kind of power?" Ben asks.

"God." Claire raises an eyebrow. Jesse waves her off. "He's interfered before, when he decides he wants to."

"A bit of a stretch." Claire rubs a thumb along his jawline. "Don't go telling any churches that God brought back the antichrist. They'd have a field day."

"Does it really matter?" Ben asks, reaching out to hold Claire's wrist. "We have him back. That's all I wanted." He presses a kiss to the spot just below Jesse's ear and is rewarded with a squirm.

"No," Claire says. "I just thought it would be nice to know." And then Jesse pulls her on top of him and kisses her, hand skimming down her body to pull her hips flush against him and she forgets about asking.

.

Lisa and Amelia say goodbye to their children in July. On a warm, clear morning, they watch as they pack a car full of all their belongings. It doesn't come as a surprise. Regina isn't a city that can contain them.

There's not that much. The worse thing is the boxes of rare books Claire's collected, all of which have to be packaged so they won't be damaged. Jesse had slung a single solitary bag in the car first thing and declared himself done. He'd sat slumped in the passenger seat until Claire had pulled him out with a kiss on the cheek and given him a list of things to carry.

He'd decided that carrying was for fools and had decided to teleport the boxes in and out the house.

Amelia only jumps when he manages to do it a foot in front of her. Which is better than it had been. It's taken some adjustment for Amelia and Lisa, having Jesse around. Neither of their children flinch when Jesse appears two inches away from them without warning. They're used to it from the start.

But Amelia and Lisa get used to having someone who is basically a weapon of mass destruction popping in and out their kitchen. They see the smiles he brings to their children's faces. It's difficult to hate him, then. And besides, he's a good kid, when you get to know him.

They've done well for themselves. Ben's graduated, better than anyone every thought he would. He's not Ivy League, but if he wanted he'd have his pick of places to go. But his only interest is following Claire. Claire, whose blogging about the relevance of myth in today's world has won her a sizeable online following and an acceptance to study mythology at Vassar College. So the three of them are off to Poughkeepsie, New York.

They're leaving early. There's a roadtrip planned; sights they haven't seen, people they've missed. Charlie wants them for her summer LARP campaign and they've got a standing invitation at the Tran household. Kevin's mom wants to meet the kids who saved her son, and the trio can't think of any reason to not pop in.

Lisa and Amelia are staying put. There'd been a conversation Claire had with both of them, where she'd made it clear than no one would mind if they decided to pack up and come with the kids. It was nice to be invited, but Amelia and Lisa have no desire to chase their children. Regina is quiet, calm, and home. It's normal for kids to move on; normal for parents to see their children off to college.

It doesn't mean that there aren't tears when each of the kids is hugged farewell. Even Jesse, who is as much family as anyone else. "You be good to them," Lisa says, ruffling his hair.

"I'd never be anything else," he says back, serious for a moment. Lisa knows he means it.

The kids have smiles on their faces and tears in their eyes as they get in the car. Ben yells out the window, one last goodbye as Claire puts her foot down on the accelerator.

It doesn't take long for the car to disappear out of view, but Amelia and Lisa remain on the sidewalk, waving, for as long as they can.

The house is going to be quiet without them. "What do you want for dinner?" Amelia asks, as they head back up.

Lisa smiles, quiet. "Whatever you want."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And there it is. Thank you to everyone who has kudosed, bookmarked, or left such lovely comments; you are all lovely, wonderful people. I hope you've enjoyed reading this fic as much as I've enjoyed writing it.
> 
> There are a bunch of notes over on [my tumblr](http://drinkupthesunrise.tumblr.com/post/110915604156/okay-so-with-the-last-bit-of-hunters-children) if you're interested in how I put it together and some stuff that didn't make it into the final version, etc.


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